


Safeword

by Bronte



Series: Masquerade [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien gets by with a little help from his friends, Angst, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Gabriel's been caught, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Poor Adrien, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Magic Reveal, Semi-Public Sex, Therapy, protect our sunshine boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-22 00:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 95,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14297199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bronte/pseuds/Bronte
Summary: "You can do whatever you want to me.""What's the magic word?""...please."Because Masquerade was only the beginning.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: You're gonna want to read the monster that is Masquerade before diving head first into this bad boy.
> 
> Hello sinners! Welcome back to the Masquerade-verse! In this series, there will be emotions, there will be sex and there will be an overarching story told, this time, from Adrien's POV. We're gonna jump through time, we're gonna start up some intrigue and we're gonna go to therapy. Dr. Bronte is in the house!
> 
> Now, if you remember my cliffhanger, you'll know that I left you all...well, hanging! Did Adrien escape? Did his father find out who he is? And who was knocking at the door? 
> 
> Buckle up sinners. Get ready.

__

_[Week Thirty-Four]_  
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_  
_[Appearance: Clean, Well Groomed]_  
_[Posture: Normal]_  
_[Attitude: Mostly Cooperative]  
_ _[Mood: TBD]_

**—**

_He’s got her just where he wants her, naked and wanton on the living room carpet. She’s a pretty sight, sitting on her haunches with her knees widely spread and he circles her once, twice to admire his handiwork, blindfolded and gasping on her knees._

_He’s got her wrists bound behind her back, the silk tie keeping her from reaching between her thighs one of many he keeps rolled up in his closet. He undoes his belt and slips it from the loops of his trousers, dropping the strap of heavy leather beside her with a foreboding thump._

_“Please,” she begs, her hips twitching as he grazes his fingers along her shoulders and back, burying them in her hair. He tugs gently and she throws her head back obediently, her lips parted as he—_

“Adrien?”

Blinking, the eighteen year old former child model looks up from where he’s been staring at the blank screen of his iPhone and spots the waving secretary peeking up from over the counter.

“Y-yes?”

Mme. Poupin smiles brightly, her cherubic features illuminated by the wintery sunlight streaming in through the wide windows of the office, tastefully furnished with minimalistic decor. She rises so she can see him better over the live edge wood counter that separates her cubicle from the waiting room and pushes the diffuser to the side, the reassuring blend of ylang ylang and frankincense perfuming the air.

“Docteur Renée is ready for you.”

Adrien takes a steadying breath and turns his phone on silent, slipping it into his pocket alongside his wallet. Standing, he straightens his shirt and offers the secretary a smile in return, one that doesn’t feel as if he’d had to plaster it on his face. He thinks he’s getting better at being genuine and thanks Mme. Poupin before making his way over to the barn doors that separate his therapist’s space from the outside world, a sanctuary he’d quickly found refuge in all those months ago.

He forgoes knocking, knowing full well that her office would be empty and waiting for him. She’d mentioned in previous sessions how she tends to block out a fifteen minute break period before his appointments, citing something about trying to draw patience from goodness knows where in order to deal with him. She’d joked many times about how he’d become her worst client, his penchant for always keeping secrets a constant thorn in her side, although he’d long suspected that she’d figured out his alter ego quite early on in their appointments. In fact, he wonders if she knew right from the beginning.

“Good morning Adrien,” she greets him, a lavender throw pillow in her hands. She fluffs it and sets it down on her chair alongside her journal and marches forwards, her arms outstretched before her, “How’s my favourite puzzle doing?”

Adrien grins and immediately feels at ease, softening as she welcomes him in with a quick handshake, “Not too bad, thank you. How are you?”

“Well, let’s see,” Docteur Renée pulls back and taps her chin in mock thought, her pursed lips barely holding back a smile, “Félix decided to throw up on my duvet this morning.”

Following her over to the divan, Adrien makes a face, “Is Félix still upset about Brigitte?”

“He doesn’t like to share I’m afraid,” she responds, flopping into her chair and inviting Adrien to sit as well, “You know how cats can be. Territorial, mercurial, aloof.”

The look she gives him is far too piercing to meet and he averts his gaze instinctively, busying himself with the cushions instead, “I’ve never had a pet, so I wouldn’t know.”

His therapist surely knows evasion when she sees it, but nothing is mentioned as she watches him slip his shoes from his feet and settle into a comfortable position, “So, cat behaviour aside, how are you feeling today?”

“I’m alright,” Adrien says, and it doesn’t feel like a lie, “It’s been seven months.”

“I was wondering if you’d bring that up,” Docteur Renée never writes during their meetings, prefering to fiddle with the stylus she keeps perched behind her ear instead, “How are you managing?”

“It doesn’t bother me as much now as it did around Christmas,” he replies, running his fingers through his hair, “But the last few Christmases haven’t been very good to begin with. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“Christmas isn’t always a time for miracles.”

“You’re telling me,” he stares up at the ceiling, “But it wasn’t all bad. I spent a lot of it with friends. Marinette and her family invited me over for Christmas Eve.”

“That sounds lovely,” Docteur Renée smiles, tracing her eyes over his silhouette as he continues to stare at the cracks in the plaster ceiling, “Were you able to give her the Christmas present you’d been talking about with me?”

Adrien smiles, “She loved it. It was...it felt really good to give it to her.”

“Good deeds tend to bring good things,” she replies, worrying the tip of the stylus between her teeth, “Were you able to find time to celebrate New Years?”

“I managed to find a minute or two,” Adrien clutches one of the pillows across his chest and squeezes it, “I was kind of busy that night.”

“It was a bizarre evening for everyone I think,” Docteur Renée frowns and takes a deep breath, “I don’t know if anyone expected a magical attack on Paris again so soon...I guess it’s good thing that Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t retire after all.”

Adrien tips his head, “Definitely. Who would have thought they’d be needed again after my father’s arrest?”

“The cycle of good and evil never ends,” she trails off, leaning against the lavender cushion at her back, “Speaking of which, did you decide to visit him over the holidays?”

“Pfft,” Adrien snorts and glares up at the ceiling again, “Marinette thought it might be cathartic or something, I don’t know. I love her, don’t get me wrong, but there was no way I was going to take her advice on that.”

“Understandable,” Docteur Renée nods her head, “Especially around the holidays. I know it can ramp up a lot of negative emotions for a lot of people.”

“I asked the staff to make sure Nathalie didn’t try and contact me either,” he says after a beat, “She gets different privileges because she pleaded that she was coerced and threatened into helping him or whatever, so she gets access to the phone in prison now and then.”

“Also understandable, especially if you don’t believe her.”

“Of course I don’t,” Adrien bares his teeth, “She worked with him for years. If she really wanted out, she had every opportunity.”

“Not necessarily,” Docteur Renée reminds him, “Gabriel proved that he wasn’t above more...permanent solutions when it came to the people who betrayed him.”

“I know, I know,” Adrien waves his hand dismissively, “Still. I don’t trust her and I don’t want to hear from her.”

Docteur Renée takes a deep breath and weighs her words carefully, “You’re still harbouring a fair bit of resentment.”

“Of course I am,” Adrien reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I keep trying to push it away but it’s not working, I’m still upset all of the time. I can control it mostly, and channel it in other ways like we talked about but...but it’s not going away.”

“And I don’t expect that it will. Not for a while anyway,” Docteur Renée closes her eyes for a moment, “As much as I know that you don’t want to hear me say it, these things do take time.”

Adrien pulls the pillow up to his face and groans, “I’m sick of waiting.”

“I know, and it’s my job to listen to you complain about it,” she shakes her head as Adrien grumbles incoherently into the pillow, “All jokes aside, it will get better. Everything you need is on the other side of this feeling.”

He pushes the pillow down and looks at her, his green eyes catching hers in the sunlit room, “Everything?”

“Well, maybe not everything,” her expression softens, “But at some point in our lives, we suddenly realise what we’re here for, what we’re meant to do. When this feeling finally passes, and it will, I think you’ll find your answers too.”

_tbc..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! A little taste of what's to _cum_ , if you will. This will be a fic that explores some d/s themes (are you surprised? is anyone?) so if that isn't your thing, don't say I didn't warn you. That being said, there's _bound_ to be a few of you out there who are into a little bdsm ;) 
> 
> Next chapter, we go back in time to week one and the aftermath!
> 
> Lastly, I've got other stories on the go, so have patience with me. No matter how _tied_ up I get, I usually tend to _whip_ out the stories that get comments. Writing is _hard_ work and I always love being on the receiving end of your words ;)
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	2. Week One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the warm response of the prologue!

_[Week One]_  
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_  
_[Appearance: Dishevelled]_  
_[Posture: Tense]_  
_[Attitude: Unresponsive]  
_ _[Mood: Distressed]_

Adrien doesn't say anything for a very long time.

Marinette is, of course, and Tikki and Plagg are both losing their collective marbles simultaneously and together, they almost make enough noise to drown out the feedback buzz that's droning incessantly in his ears, a sound that can only be described by someone whose entire world has been swept out from under their feet in the worst sort of way.

He doesn't say anything as the Dupain-Cheng’s come rushing up the stairs after hearing the news over the bakery’s radio, their eyes and their hearts overwhelmingly sympathetic. They gather him in their arms and he doesn't quite feel their embrace, doesn't quite hear their apologies over the white noise drowning everything out, muffling every word beyond the ones that keep on playing on repeat in his mind like a broken recording, over and over and over and over and…

_(My father is not Le Papillon.)_

He doesn't say anything as the police come to Marinette's door and take him into custody. He doesn't say anything when they ask him if he has a lawyer in mind or if he wants to be represented by the state. He doesn't react when Sabine tells him that they'll meet him at the precinct, or when Marinette pulls him into a tight embrace and tells him that she loves him. He just follows the officer into the car and stares out the window as they weave through the city’s endless traffic, the words in his mind playing over and over…

 _(My father is_ **_not_ ** _Le Papillon.)_

He's sitting at a table and there's an unfamiliar woman at his side, saying things he can't understand. Her lips are moving but he can't quite make out the words, not with the way they melt in with the hum of the fluorescent lights above him and the scuff of steel toe shoes just outside the door. His senses are heightened, his flight or fight response kicking into overdrive and everything is too much, _too much_.

A man he's fairly acquainted with walks in and sits across from him, lacing his stocky fingers together on the table. His moustache hides his lips but his eyes are kind, and Adrien stares at them for a long while, remembering all the times they'd worked in tandem when he was Chat Noir. He’s also saying words, and the man's eyes turn from kind to concerned as he and the woman beside him converse, back and forth, back and forth and then the man and woman are gone and there's a different person in front of him now, a woman with wavy hair and a wry smile and purple stylus tucked behind her ear.

“Hello Adrien.”

They're the first words to pierce through the chaotic orchestra of his own mind and her voice is much too loud and yet not loud enough.

“They called me here because your friends are worried about you,” she says, “Your girlfriend Marinette and her family told me that you haven't said a word since you ran away and showed up at their door.”

 _Her balcony_ , he thinks, _I ran away and landed on her balcony_.

The woman sits patiently and unflinchingly as Adrien looks in every direction but her own, “Would you like something to drink?”

He stops fidgeting for a moment and considers her question, his conditioning forcing his tongue to move from where it's been stuck uncomfortably to the top of his palette, “No thank you.”

“You're welcome,” she replies instantaneously and it feels like praise, he thinks, as he tips his chin up from when it has dipped against his chest subconsciously, “Would you like something to eat instead?”

He shakes his head and tucks his hands between his knees, his body hunching in on itself. His chest hurts and the change of position is helping somewhat, his throat tightening as he tries to breathe.

“That's okay, I wouldn't want to eat anything from the lunch room either,” she remarks, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, “Especially when you have friends who'd be happy to stuff you with actual food rather than the day old shawarma I saw sitting on the counter.”

He doesn't know what shawarma is beyond that one obscure reference in a movie.

There are little wet spots appearing on the fabric of his jeans.

“I've already spoken with your lawyer of course, and she's assured me that you'll be able to stay with your friends for the next few days. Does anyone come to mind who would be able to let you sleep over?”

Adrien finds he can't speak even if he wanted to, his body stiffened like clay left too long in the sun. He tries to look up but his eyes are suddenly obscured with tears, his heartbeat racing in his chest in anticipation of the tongue lashing he gets every time he shows emotion in public. _Be quiet!_ He hears his voice already, harsh and angry and rarely concerned, his hands pulling him away to some discreet corner where he'd be lectured repeatedly, over and over, over and over, over and—

“Hey now, no need to get upset over bad shawarma,” says her voice at his side, soft and soothing, calm and quiet, “If I had known shawarma was such a big deal, you know, I wouldn't have brought it up.”

She's made a joke and he thinks he should be laughing except all that escapes his lips is a choked sob that fills the room. It hurts his ears and he sinks further into himself, sliding back into the metal chair in the hopes that he could just disappear altogether except she's still kneeling beside him, her hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” she says, her voice cutting through the din in his ears as he tries to choke back the sobs crawling up his throat, “I know this is hard but all I need from you is confirmation that you had no idea what was going on and the police will let you go.”

“I...didn't know,” he sputters, his throat constricted, his lungs aching as he continues to gasp, “He’s not…he can’t be...”

She squeezes the muscles of his shoulder, her thumb gently kneading circles against his shirt, “I believe you. Now come on, let's get you out of here.”

The next few hours pass in a blur, a business card in his hand, a reminder not to leave Paris, a reminder not to leave France. He's whisked off to another room when his lawyer assures him that the police will allow him back into his bedroom at some point to grab his belongings, but only once they've been searched and catalogued. Adrien can only nod idly, tracing the etched lettering of the card with his fingertips.

 _Rachelle Renée  
_ _Registered Psychologist_

~

“Are you sure you don't want another blanket?” Marinette asks and Adrien blinks slowly, taking the offered blanket within his grasp even though he doesn’t really want it. He's not sure what to make of all these people who are suddenly worried about his well being, “I already put some pillows on the couch and there’s extra food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Adrien takes a deep breath and releases it, “Thank you.”

Marinette looks wrong or maybe it’s just his eyes playing tricks on him. It’s dark in her living room and he feels like he’s sagging beneath the pull of gravity, “You sure you’re alright down here?”

He nods and sits down against the cushions, draping the blanket over his knees, “Yeah.”

Marinette hesitates once, twice, before ultimately retreating backwards towards the set of stairs that lead into her bedroom. Her parents had been frank in their request that he stay down here, and he was in no mood to argue. He's not really in the mood to do anything beyond staring blankly at the place where Marinette disappeared in through the trapdoor fifteen, twenty minutes ago? He looks over to the clock on the oven and notices it’s been over an hour.

Plagg has been oddly quiet, which is not necessarily unusual. It’s only when he lifts his head up from his pillow to check on him that he realises it’s because he’s gone upstairs with Tikki.

There’s this sense of paralysis that’s kind of taking over, a sinking feeling in his gut that doesn’t want to go away. He knows he should lie down and close his eyes but he just can’t seem to make his body want to listen, cold and tired and grey and stiff and there’s no real energy left, every ounce of it sapped out of him when he’d retreated to Marinette’s washroom to be alone for a minute and found himself tear stained and hiccuping into a towel, begging himself to get a grip.

He blinks and glances down at his ring, the Miraculous glinting in the ambient light coming in from the streets. Part of him knows he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t help but feel partially responsible for this mess. If it weren’t for Chat Noir, would there have been a different outcome? Would any of this had happened? Would it have felt any better if he had never known?

It’s nearly 0200 now.

He slips his ring off his finger and sets it on a fashion magazine that’s sitting on a coffee table. It’s essentially useless to him now; who needs Chat Noir when there’s no villain to defeat?

Unless…

_My father is...he’s not Le Papillon._

He lays down. He waits. He hears Marinette’s parents get up and start their morning down at the bakery. Time passes.

He doesn’t fall asleep.

~

The next few days take place but it doesn’t really feel like it and later, he’ll tell everyone who asks that he has no recollection of it. He’s given his phone and a duffel bag of clothes from his home but nothing else, his computer and electronics still under investigation. He thinks he was passed off to Nino’s family at some point because he remembers the smell of _ras el hanout_ on his tongue, but he’s not sure when or why. He remembers being shuttled about in cars, remembers going back to the police precinct and asked a series of questions, many of which his lawyer tells him not to answer. His lips move unbidden, and he doesn’t remember what he says but it seems to satisfy them because he’s out again, standing in front of the _La Grande Paris_ with his bag in hand.

“Mayor Bourgeois insisted on offering you a room for as long as you need it,” his lawyer explains, leading him inside the gleaming glass doors, “And since you have no family in the vicinity and the Bourgeois family has long been a close family friend, the state agreed that this would be your best option until your cousins in Hong Kong can be contacted.”

Adrien nods and stands still as Chloé clobbers him with affection, André’s kind eyes and booming voice drowned out by his daughter’s shrieking in his ears. His lawyer passes him off, (what _is_ her name again?) and Adrien follows the mayor through the lobby and up into the elevator as quickly as his legs will take him, what with the extra weight of Chloé wrapped like a vice around his chest.

“...and you can stay here for as long as you need,” André explains while Chloé takes a deep, blubbering breath, “We always keep one of our guests rooms open for our friends who may need it, especially during times of controversy. Why, one of the _Yves Saint Laurent_ girls was here just last week after her operation…”

Adrien doesn’t hear much more than that as Chloé’s cries begin anew but he makes sure to thank the man profusely as he leads him towards the room at the end of the hall on the uppermost floor in the hopes that he’d hear him. André seems to get the gist regardless, planting his meaty hand on his daughter’s shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to calm her wailing by explaining that she’s likely disturbing the guests. It gives Adrien the distraction he needs to shake André’s hand and slip into his room with the agility he’d long gleaned from his time scaling rooftops, locking himself away from Chloé and into an empty room that has never felt more like home.

The decor is lavish, garish even when compared to the stark minimalism of his former home, the brightly coloured walls and furniture nearly blinding in contrast to the soft and muted tones of the places he’d been staying at recently. He drops his bag beside the landing and steps into the spacious living area, taking in the enormous corner sectional facing the 72” television hanging from the wall. There’s a dining space for four that leads into the master bedroom where the king sized bed faces the windows that lead out to the balcony, the view all-encompassing. He drapes his coat over the leather chair tucked into the desk against the far bedroom wall and walks into the Carrera marble-adorned bathroom, slipping the tip of his finger along the smooth double sink countertops. There’s a deep soaker tub and a separate shower, and everything he’d ever need piled onto the shelves and cabinets. He can tell Chloé has been in here, judging by the hygiene products that line the oversized backlit vanity mirror; only she would remember his preference for La Mer over the l’Occitane products that _La Grande Paris_ supplied for its guests.

Something warms in his heart as he glances back over his shoulder and walks back into the bedroom, opening up the bedside tables only to find a pair of Ladybug pyjamas. He takes them out of the drawer and takes a quick photo, snapping it to Chloé.

Adrien  
Are these what I think they are?

Chloé  
IKR!!! TWINSIES!!!

Adrien waits for a second, completely unsurprised when Chloé snaps a photo of herself in the same matching pyjamas, thrown hasilty over her clothing.

Chloé  
WE CAN WEAR THEM TOGETHER AND WATCH MOVIES!

SLUMBER PARTY!!!

Adrien shakes his head and feels his lips twitch. It’s his first smile in days.

~

Chloé shovels another handful of popcorn in her mouth as Adrien flicks through Netflix for a superhero show they _haven’t_ watched, the two of them curled up on one of her many enormous couches in front of the television. She’d insisted that he join her in her suite for a movie night and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, blowing up his phone with texts and snaps until he’d eventually given in and meandered over to her door. She’d answered and immediately sent him back to grab his pyjamas because matching pyjamas were _essential_ if the slumber party was going to be a success and Adrien obediently went back and got them, changed and returned to her tapping her toes impatiently in the doorframe.

Three hours later had found him feeling surprisingly half decent, which was something he honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever feel again after what had been the worst week of his life. Chloé seemed to have either found the decency not to mention his father or had forgotten about him altogether, which was fine by him. Instead, they talked about shampoo and cars and superhero shows and she’d stuffed him with popcorn until it felt like the seams of his Ladybug pyjamas were going to burst; it was oddly comforting in a way that he could get used to.

He feels... _normal_.

They finally agree on a television series neither of them are familiar with and Adrien settles back beneath the bumblebee fleece she’d thrown on top of him, insisting that he take it as it was her favourite and he deserved better things considering he still wasn’t allowed to pick up his stuff. Once they’re settled again, she continues to chatter amicably in his ear about the horrid make-up on the hero’s face or the terrible dialogue between the villain and the love interest and the whole thing is a little surreal as he laughs at one of Chloé’s particularly honest jabs, revelling in the outspokenness that was so indelibly her. If anything, it was better than the constant sympathetic faces everyone had been giving him, the neverending ‘I’m sorry’s’ over and over. He was getting a little sick of it, to be honest; why couldn’t everybody just let him forget?

Rolling his shoulders during a particularly boring scene, he fishes his mobile out of his pocket and checks the notifications with a flick of his thumb. He's got about 45 snaps and 13 texts waiting for him, but none of them worry him quite as much as the six unread messages he'd gotten from Marinette. He opens them and reads then carefully, his stomach jerking instinctively when he sees what she's said.

“Unless you're taking cute selfies with me, put your phone away,” Chloé demands, flicking a piece of popcorn at his face, “This is a slumber party, you have to pay attention to me.”

Adrien snorts and quickly flicks back to the message menu, “It's my lawyer Chloé. I kind of need to read it.”

“Not at midnight you don't,” Chloé retorts, peering over his shoulder, “What's so important that it can't wait?”

Adrien pushes the power button before she can see the screen, “Nothing, but I need to pee, so get off.”

Chloé rolls her eyes and snatches the remote off his lap, pausing the episode, “Don't be long! You know how much I hate waiting.”

“Trust me, I know,” he replies, pushing the bumblebee blanket aside, “Try not to eat all the popcorn.”

She shoves a mouthful between her lips and glowers at him, daring him to talk back. He just rolls his eyes and walks through the threshold and into the hallway towards the main bath.

Adrien  
Sorry, I was watching Netflix.

Marinette  
Hey! I figured you were busy, no big deal.

Adrien  
Did you still want to come over?

Marinette  
Only if you want me to.

Adrien  
I do. Maybe in an hour?

Marinette  
An hour?

Adrien  
I'm with Chloé atm.

Marinette  
Oh.

Adrien  
I might be able to get away earlier, I'll text you when I get back. I'm on the top floor, southeast corner.

Marinette  
K

Adrien flushes the toilet in case Chloé is listening and tucks his phone back into his pocket, washing his hands. He goes to dry them and thinks about that time several years ago when they were only ten or eleven and she'd played that stupid practical joke on him. Smirking, he leaves his hands wet and ventures back out into the living room, flopping onto the couch.

“Took you long enough,” Chloé whines, stabbing the play button with more vehemence than was entirely necessary.

Adrien lifts his hands and shimmies closer, “That's ‘cause I...PEED ON MY HANDS!”

Chloé screams as he wipes his wet plms down her cheeks and Adrien breaks out in laughter, squirming out of the way as she starts flailing, squealing at the top of her lungs. Her face is red and furious and he's clutching his sides, tears beading at the corners of his eyes as she continues to berate him, smashing his shins with a pillow as he curls into a ball.

“ADRIEN!” she jumps up onto the cushions and leaps on top of him, her hands seeking his sides with a vengeance. She's known him since they were in diapers, playing teddy bears and tea parties and she knows his weaknesses, knows that his sides are incredibly ticklish as she digs her perfectly manicured fingers into his skin and laughs maniacally when he starts to howl.

“NOOO!” he screeches, wriggling back and forth to try and throw her off but she’s attached herself like a leech, her nails tracing evil patterns into his abdomen and he’s laughing and crying at the same time, freeing and cathartic all at once. He eventually manages to get the upper hand and grabs her by the hips, tossing her gently to the other side of the couch. She lands with a thump and he wraps himself up with the mountain of blankets around him, successfully shielding himself from her merciless hands.

“You’re evil,” he pants, grinning despite himself as she leaps onto her feet, towering over him with a gleam in her eyes that promises of retaliation.

“ _I’m_ evil?” she shrieks, “ _You’re_ the one who wiped your wet hands on my face!”

Adrien shrugs, “You did it to me first.”

“Hmmf,” she crosses her arms across her chest and sits back down on the couch with a pout, “Well, it was way funnier then.”

“ _Suuure_ it was,” Adrien wiggles his eyebrows, “You’re just jealous.”

“Of what?” Chloé turns her nose up into the air, “I’m obviously way cuter than you, what could I possibly be jealous of?”

Adrien breaks out into snickers and Chloé can’t seem to help herself either, the popcorn and the cheesy superhero show long forgotten. They’re little kids again, immature and stupid and wrapped up in their own little world and...it feels good.

Yeah, it feels good.

~

When he finally drags himself back to his hotel room, Ladybug is already perched on the railings of his balcony, her legs dangling gently in the summer breeze. She startles as he turns on the light and she hops down, standing in front of the locked balcony doors in anticipation.

Smiling, he unlatches them and pulls them aside, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” she responds and her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes, “How was your movie date with Chloé?”

Adrien can hear the animosity laced in her question and vies to change the subject as quickly as he can, “We ate popcorn and watched bad TV shows. What have you been up to? I’ve missed you.”

Ladybug still looks unnerved as she steps into the bedroom, “It’s only been a few days.”

“Still,” he shuts the door behind her, “There was a time when we saw each other every night.”

“I miss those days,” she replies and the acid in her tone has all but disappeared, replaced by a sense of nostalgia. She turns around and faces him, “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he says, looking away from her sympathetic gaze and focusing on the foot of the bed, “It’s kind of nice being in my own place.”

“Yeah?” Ladybug walks around the bed and peeks out into the living room, “This is a nice suite.”

“It was very kind of them to offer,” Adrien shrugs, watching her as she takes another step past the threshold, “They really went overboard with the red and brass though.”

“You're telling me,” she agrees, retreating back into the bedroom, “A bit of an eyesore honestly.”

“I’ll get used it it. It’s all I have.”

“I still say you could have stayed with me,” Ladybug crosses her arms across her chest, her blue eyes glinting stubbornly behind her mask.

“One, my lawyer wouldn’t allow it,” Adrien sits down on the mattress and sheds his shoes, “Two, you guys don’t exactly have a spare room.”

She sighs deeply but doesn’t disagree with him, “I like having you close.”

“And I like having you close too,” he replies, crossing his legs, “But we don’t always get what we want. I’m pretty sure I’m the poster child for that right now.”

“Adrien…”

“Don’t,” he holds up his arms, “I don't want to hear about it. Right now, I just want to forget about it and pretend I’m normal, alright?”

Ladybug hesitates, “I...okay. What do you want to do?”

“What do you think?” Adrien gets back up onto his feet and walks towards her, gesturing to himself, “I even dressed for the occasion.”

That makes her lips twitch, “Did Chloé get you those?”

“Uh huh,” he closes the space between them, “I know you guys hate each other but you have to admit, she has impeccable taste when it comes to superhero pyjamas.”

“Well…” she considers her words for a moment, “You’re not wrong.”

“I know,” he spins around in a circle slowly, glancing over his shoulder, “I’m trying my best here to seduce you, you know.”

“I know you are,” she smiles but there’s still something holding her back and Adrien can feel his hackles begin to rise, “And it’s a good look. I like the way you look in red and black.”

“I’ll have to wear it more often then,” he replies but his voice is growing terse, “But I can promise you, I look better without it on.”

“Yeah?” she doesn’t move as he takes her hand in his and tugs, “I bet.”

Adrien breathes out and closes his eyes, dropping the act, “Alright, spill. What’s the matter?”

Ladybug watches him closely and holds her breath, scared of his response, “It’s...been a long few days.”

Adrien snorts, “Really? You don’t say.”

“I…” she trails off, “The police asked me to help with the investigation.”

He takes a deep breath and every good feeling he’d felt hanging out with Chloé falls away, “I see.”

“They want Chat’s help too.”

“Fat chance,” Adrien stalks back to his bed and takes his former seat near the lower corner, “I’m not exactly the best source for an unbiased opinion.”

“They don’t know that,” she replies, following him over to the bed after a beat. She slides onto the mattress and crosses her legs in front of her, not quite meeting his eyes, “I told them that you were taking some time off but that I’d ask when I found you.”

“And they believed that?” Adrien’s eyebrows disappear into his bangs, “We’re in a public relationship. Everyone knows Ladybug and Chat Noir are a thing.”

Ladybug shakes her head and traces along the pattern of the duvet with a gloved finger, “I need to tell you something. Something important.”

“What?”

Ladybug frowns at the way he’s starting to snap his words. He’s used this tone on her before a few times, back when she was still questioning her feelings for him but this time, they’re not grinding against a wall in an alleyway; they don’t have the itch to blame or their hormones or a million other excuses they could have used, not this time. Things were different now.

“We...when they brought your father in, they didn’t...we couldn’t find the Butterfly Miraculous.”

Adrien stiffens, his eyes bulging wide, “They...what?”

Ladybug can already see where this is going, “They matched his blood to the blood at the crime scene but...he must have hid it before the police got there.”

Adrien’s already stopped listening to her words, “Oh my god. Oh my god, do you know what this means?”

Ladybug’s jaw drops as he leaps up onto his feet, “This...yes, this is...this is good, this is great! If they can’t tie him to being _Le Papillon_ —”

“—he’s still being accused of murder—”

“—then maybe he could still be innocent!”

“Wait Adrien—”

“No, this was exactly what I needed,” Adrien puts up his arms and pumps his fists, “Where’s my mobile, I need to call my lawyer and tell her—”

“We found Nooroo.”

“She’ll be able to help—” Adrien’s head spins around so fast she’s afraid it’ll snap, “...wait, what?”

“Nooroo,” Ladybug breathes a sigh of relief, having finally gotten his attention, “His kwarmi.”

Adrien purses his lips and shakes his head, “He can’t have a kwarmi without a Miraculous.”

“That’s the problem,” Ladybug insists, crawling over to his side of the mattress, “Where’s Plagg? He’d be able to explain this better.”

“I have no idea,” Adrien gazes at her suspiciously, “Where’s Nooroo then?”

Ladybug gets up and starts looking for the tiny, cat shaped god, “I took him to Master Fu where he’ll be safe.”

“Weren’t the police a little suspicious that you, you know, took evidence from a crime scene?”

Ladybug disappears into the living room, “I hid him in my hair the same way I hid Plagg. They don’t need to know about how our Miraculous works.”

“Wait,” Adrien slips off the duvet and flicks on the light, watching as she searches through the cushions for Plagg, “Why don’t you just detransform so we can talk to Tikki?”

“I forgot to grab my purse before I left and I’m pretty sure you don’t have any cookies lying around,” she explains, walking back into his bedroom and picking up the shirt he’d left draped over the office chair, “There you are!”

Ladybug scoops the cat Miraculous from the interior pocket of the shirt and holds him in her palm, nudging him with her fingers, “Hey Plagg, I have a few questions for you.”

Plagg’s closed eyes twitch as he continues to feign sleep.

“Come on kitty,” Ladybug cajoles him, “It’s me, Ladybug.”

“What do you want?” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth and Ladybug smirks in triumph.

“An answer,” Ladybug leans closer, “I’ll make you a cheesecake next time you’re over. I’ll even put a little paw print on it and everything, just for you.”

Plagg cracks open an eyelid, “Keep going.”

Ladybug purses her lips as she considers, “Any flavour you’d like.”

“Deal.”

Ladybug lets him go as he floats upwards, watching him closely, “I’m going to assume you already know what we’re talking about?”

Plagg doesn’t meet Adrien’s suspicious glance, “Maybe.”

“Nooroo,” Ladybug crosses her arms, “Explain.”

“He’s the butterfly Miraculous,” Plagg yawns widely, “So what?”

“Well, he’s been separated from his stone, for one. We can’t find it and he’s asleep” Ladybug explains.

“Oh,” Plagg’s pupils sharpen, “That’s not good.”

Adrien pipes in, “What do you mean, that’s not good?”

“Uhhh…”

Ladybug crosses her arms, “Cheesecake?”

Plagg begins to flit anxiously from one side to the other, “Why can't Tikki just explain this?”

“Plagg…”

“Fine,” he harrumphs, dropping onto the desk dramatically, “Two cheesecakes. I want two of them.”

“I'll make you three if you stop stalling and start talking,” Ladybug sits back down on the mattress and smirks as he perks up considerably, “Come on, it's a school night, I don't have all day.”

“I... _ugh_ ,” Plagg wrings his paws together, “Tikki is much better at the whole exposition thing than I am.”

Ladybug sighs, “I guess one cheesecake will have to suffice.”

“Okay, okay,” Plagg finally sags against the surface of the desk and lies there, his expression one of defeat, “A Miraculous can't be used for evil purposes without paying the price.”

Ladybug rolls her wrist impatiently, “Go on.”

“When we were bound to our stones, we swore to use our magic for the good of the world but...things didn't always work out that way,” he continues, his tone surprisingly serious, “We haven't always been used by the people we were supposed to be and...well, I think Tikki is the only one who's managed to keep her promise.”

“What do you mean?” Adrien asks, his eyes widening.

Plagg shrugs, “I've slipped into the wrong hands a few times before and let me tell you, it’s not fun being used to take down entire empires...the results are never worth the price.”

“What's the price?”

“It depends,” Plagg sits up and worries his whiskers between his paws, “I'm the god of bad luck, I practically exude it, so I didn't exactly have to explain myself when those empires came crashing down. But with every evil action comes an equal reaction, unless we choose to shield our bearer from it.”

Adrien swallows uncomfortably, “Shield them? How?”

“ _Ughhhhh_ ,” Plagg flops back onto the surface of the desk and groans, “Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Cheesecake…” Ladybug singsongs and Plagg throws her a withering look.

“It doesn't matter how,” he continues after a long suffering exhale, “All that matters is that it makes us sick, _really_ sick, and if that's what happened to Nooroo, than he's...well…” Plagg shakes his head, “His bearer would have had to perform the ultimate act of evil while he was in the suit to deplete his powers like that.”

“And what's that?” Adrien asks, spinning his ring unconsciously around his finger.

Plagg fidgets nervously, his whiskers rolling back and forth between his palms, “Murder.”

“But...”

“Look kid, remember that one time you got mad at your dad and destroyed an advertisement out of spite and it knocked me out cold?” Plagg sighs and leans back against the desktop lamp, “I absorbed the negativity to protect you, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Can you imagine what would happen to me if you hurt someone with _cataclysme_?”

It's not the right thing to say, Plagg soon realises as the blood drains from his bearer’s face. Sensing his reaction, Ladybug reaches over and grabs Adrien’s hand but he shakes her off, collapsing back into the mattress on his own.

“Tikki can't figure out why Nooroo would want to protect him,” Ladybug mutters, climbing up behind Adrien and wrapping her arms gently around his midsection, “It doesn't make sense.”

“Unless my father is innocent,” Adrien grumbles and the look of pity Plagg gives him says it all.

“I don't get it either,” Plagg shrugs, “But, you'll have to figure that out on your own, I'm done.”

Ladybug sighs but doesn't argue, “Fine, but Tikki wants to have a word with you later.”

“She’ll have to catch me first,” Plagg grumbles, curling into a ball, “She might be smaller, but I’m faster.”

Ladybug doesn’t bother responding to the surly little god and instead turns her focus back on Adrien, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, “Do you...do you want me to stay the night?”

Adrien briefly considers it, “I....maybe just for a little while?”

“Of course,” Ladybug presses a kiss to the nape of his neck and releases him from her embrace, watching him closely as he meanders over to the bathroom and closes the door behind him. She takes a deep breath and swallows the lump in her throat as she slides off the duvet and crouches over beside the desk.

“You know there’s more to it than that,” she murmurs, keeping her voice low so as not to attract Adrien’s attention as he brushes his teeth from behind the door, “You’ve got to tell him.”

“Eventually,” Plagg sighs deeply, stirring ever so slightly, “He’s not ready to hear it.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Let’s just...ease him into this alright? I don’t want to be the next Miraculous to go rogue again.”

“Adrien would never—”

“—I’ve seen it happen for less,” Plagg shrugs, “You’ve said it before, he’s got all the makings of a villain.”

“I said that as a compliment, not because I actually meant it.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” Plagg sits up and stretches, floating up to her level, “The kid needs time, time and support from humans that actually care about him.”

“I know, I know but—”

“—Look, I get it. I know how much you and Tikki want justice and all but it just isn’t gonna happen for the kid unless you give him some time to adjust.”

Ladybug sighs but doesn't argue, leaning back until she's sitting cross legged on the carpet, “How bad is it?”

“Ask him yourself,” Plagg replies, peering at her from over the lip of the desk, “That's what you humans do best, ask questions. I can hardly bear it.”

“Keep this up and I'll—”

“Shh, he's coming out.”

Adrien emerges from the bathroom with a yawn, rolling his shoulders a few times before spotting Ladybug sitting on the carpet beside his desk making faces at his kwarmi. Something about it makes him laugh and Ladybug turns to him like he's made of stars, bright and honest and it makes the heavy feeling in his heart lessen, if only just a little.

Pulling back the covers, Adrien slips between the sheets and Ladybug is at his side in seconds, squeezing in behind him. She weaves her arms and legs between his before he can so much as say a word, wrapping him up as much as possible in her embrace.

“Are you comfortable like that?” he asks as he turns into her hair, a small huff of laughter escaping his lips.

She just snuggles closer, “You looked like you needed a good hug and I have it on good authority that I'm very good at them.”

“Yeah?” he relaxes against her and she only holds him tighter, “I'm going to need some more proof before I crown you the queen.”

“Whenever you need one, I'll be here in a heartbeat. All you need to do is call.”

Adrien exhales and closes his eyes, “I'll keep that in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is Plagg and Ladybug talking about anyway? Hmm...
> 
> I loved writing this chapter. There's a lot going on and a lot to get started. To the people who have been helping me understand depression, I have to thank you so much! It's made understanding these characters a lot clearer and I look forward to digging deeper into their complexities.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	3. Week Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with the next installment! More angst, more love and, of course, a smattering of sex too! 
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Week Two]_  
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]  
[Progress Unknown]_

The other side of the bed is empty when he wakes up which isn't exactly surprising considering it’s a Thursday, but he’s feeling disappointed nonetheless. Exhaling against the beams of sunlight pouring in from the windows, Adrien grabs his mobile off the bedside table and checks his texts immediately, opening hers before so much as acknowledging the others flickering urgently on his screen.

Marinette  
Home safe. Love you.

He glances down at the timestamp of her text, one they'd both insisted on as a means to ensure each others safety shortly after they'd started their partnership, and sees that she sent it at 04:51. Breathing deeply, he rests his head back on the pillow.

She'd stayed a lot longer than he thought.

Closing his eyes for a moment against the burgeoning sunlight peeking over the cityscape, he takes another weary breath and checks the other texts and emails on his screen, scrolling quickly. His lawyer had freed him up from his responsibilities for the foreseeable future, which means he could go back to school today if he felt like it. Responding quickly, Adrien makes an uncharacteristic decision and decides to wait a day longer; he's been a celebrity long enough to know that showing his face in public after something like this won't be easy.

Adrien rolls over and closes his eyes, tucking his phone beneath his pillow in favour of wrapping his arms around himself. He feels sick to his stomach, the fact that he'd only eaten popcorn and a piece of fruit yesterday weighing heavily in his mind. It just didn't seem right to head down to the restaurant and order something when he couldn't even pay for it, let alone tip. He had no money to his name and only a small portion of his trust would be release to him on his eighteenth birthday in September; the rest wouldn't be available until he reached twenty five.

Hunching in on himself even further, he resolves to call his lawyer about his money situation later on in the morning but for now, all he wants to do is forget about the hunger pains and memories and sleep forever.

~

It’s nearly 11:00 when he finally drags himself out of bed, standing under the rainfall shower head in resignation. His lawyer was already looking into the legalities of receiving a portion of his trust in monthly increments which she had assured him wouldn’t be too much of an issue considering his situation. His business classes at school had taught him about budgeting and savings plans so he wasn’t worried so much about that as he was about other things, like how he was going to manage the rest.

It feels weird doing positively nothing for once, and it’s starting to show when his mobile’s battery drains for a second time by 14:00. He’s already paced back and forth across the carpet of his living room at least a hundred times and he refuses to watch TV for the sole purpose that he knows it will be airing news about his father. He doesn’t want to hear any of it; he knows it will be negative, what with the way the reporters stand outside _La Grande Paris_ , waiting for a glimpse of Adrien Agreste, the only son of Paris’ most notorious terrorist.

He keeps eyeing the silver band he’d placed gingerly in the middle of the dining table and continues turning away from it, ignoring the hold it has on him. He's got energy to burn and even Plagg is starting to worry, he knows that, but what’s the point of Chat Noir with no villain, no purpose to uphold?

“Am I going to have to give you back soon?”

It’s the first words out of his mouth all day besides the phone call to his lawyer and Plagg jerks awake from where he’d been lounging on the couch cushions, blinking in surprise, “Hmm?”

“The ring,” Adrien extends his hand towards the table, “Am I going to have to return you now that...that he’s gone?”

Plagg blinks slowly several times, his green eyes seemingly perturbed by the question, “Only if you want to.”

It’s not the answer he’d been expecting but Adrien nods nonetheless and keeps pacing a hole into the floor, “Who would I give you to?”

“Ladybug,” Plagg replies, his voice still unnaturally flat for the amount of sarcasm he usually laces his words with, “But what makes you think I’m going to let you retire?”

Adrien shrugs and sits down on the other side of the L-shaped sectional, “If _Le Papillon_ really is in jail, why would Paris need Chat Noir anymore?”

“Talk to Ladybug about it,” Plagg insists, curling back up into a ball, “Call her over tonight. I think she’s been texting you.”

“She has?” Adrien brightens immediately and Plagg closes his eyes with a hidden smile. Adrien grabs his phone from where he’s had it plugged into the wall and checks his notifications, his eyes flicking over the message screen.

Marinette  
Nino told me you’re coming back to school tomorrow!

Marinette  
We’ve already decided. We’re going to be your bodyguards.

Marinette  
Check the group chat. It’s hilarious.

Adrien feels the tension in his shoulders lessen as he flicks through the Snapchat stories and watches the videos his friends had taken together of their classes. They play together like a particularly disjointed film but Adrien enjoys it regardless, his lips pulling up into a small smile.

 _“Bonjour Adrien!”_ says their biology class, the camera panning across all of the students as they wave and greet him in harmony. The camera suddenly turns and Nino’s face fills up the screen, _“Hey man, see? We got your back.”_

The video cuts to a new scene, _“Boy, you won’t believe what Marinette made everyone!”_ Alya’s camera zooms in on his girlfriend handing out handmade lucky charms similar to the one she’d given him all those years ago in their lycée’s courtyard, _“And look!”_ Alya’s camera cuts to one of the lucky charms in her hand and she moves it close enough for him to see the painted heart drawn across the middle bead.

 _“En solidarité!”_ says a group of girls holding their lucky charms on a bench.

 _“En solidarité!”_ Kim and Alix holler from beside the fountain.

 _“I’ll be monitoring the school grounds for paparazzi,”_ Max says, holding up another one of his souped up drones.

 _“Maman has a VIP ticket with your name on it for next month’s festival de musique,”_ Juleka brushes her bangs back with a small grin, _“You’ll have your own box so no one can bother you.”_

 _“En solidarité!”_ Mylène giggles from atop Ivan’s shoulders, waving her lucky charm above her head.

 _“Hey Marinette!”_ Alya calls from behind the lens, _“How many have you given away?”_

Marinette blushes, _“I made 40 last night and this is my last one. I’ll need to go out and buy more supplies!”_

The scene changes and Chloé pops into the frame, _“Just so you know, I donated all of my Gabriel clothing to charity and I asked all my followers to do the same.”_

 _“It’s the right this to do,”_ Sabrina skirts into the video beside her, _“He took so much from everyone, but we can't just throw away good clothes when there's people in need of them.”_

The feed cuts and Marinette’s face fills the screen again, _“See you soon Adrien! Your friends are all here for you!”_

The Snapchat story ends abruptly and Adrien jabs the replay button, his eyes welling up with tears.

~

There’s a soft thump on his balcony and Adrien turns around, his eyes growing wide as Ladybug makes eye contact with him, her smile both mischievous and hopeful. He gets up from where he’d been texting Chloé and lets the phone drop onto the carpet from between his fingers, already under her spell. Breathless, he walks over and unlatches the balcony door, pushing it open and letting her gaze beckon him outside.

“Ladybug…”

She straightens and balances perfectly, towering over him like a marble sculpture, “Adrien.”

“Would you like to come in?” he asks, shamelessly grazing her body with his eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Ladybug responds with a smirk, “And I brought cookies for Tikki this time.”

Adrien can see where she’s going with this, “What else did you bring?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” Ladybug replies with a coy smirk, following him into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. She glances over her shoulder and shuts the red drapes quickly, hiding them away from the world, “Would you like to see?”

“Yes please,” Adrien’s lips part as she drops her transformation in front of him, the room awash with red sparkles of energy, “I love watching that.”

“I could say the same about you,” Marinette stands in front of him with a backpack and two large bags draped over her forearms, “A little help here? These are heavy.”

Adrien rushes to her side immediately and takes the straps into his hands, “What’s all this?”

“Food, clothes, your iPad,” Marinette replies, setting her backpack down onto his desk, “I had a visit with Chief Raincomprix today at the mansion.”

“Oh.”

Marinette takes a weary breath, “I asked him if I could bring you some of your stuff. They’d gone through your iPad already but you won’t get your desktop back for a while yet.”

“It’s not like I plan on using the internet anytime soon,” Adrien winces, opening the first bag of clothing, “You went through my underwear drawer?”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen them before,” Marinette smirks, “I wasn’t sure what clothes you wanted to wear so I picked my favourites.”

Adrien gets up and starts to sort his clothing inside the walk-in closet off the bedroom, “Your favourites?”

“Well…” Marinette trails off, her voice slightly muffled by the wall between them, “I may have been a little biased.”

Adrien pulls three Jagged Stone t-shirts and folds them gingerly, tucking them into a drawer, “I’m beginning to see that.”

By the time he’d made it to the bottom of the bag, Marinette’s means of choice had become pretty clear; besides his briefs and socks, there wasn’t a single piece of Gabriel clothing to be found, “I guess I’m going to have to go shopping.”

Marinette walks in behind him and sets a few more folded bundles of fabric onto the counter, “But until then, these should get you by.”

“Are these…” Adrien trails off, picking up the first of three items she’d placed in front of him, “Is this…”

“I know it’s June,” Marinette begins to ramble, wringing her hands together nervously, “But you could wear this if it gets cold in your room, or if you wanted to stay anonymous or something.”

Adrien gawks at the oversized Chat Noir hoodie as Marinette picks up the next piece underneath, “And these are for just lounging around since you don’t exactly have to look perfect all the time, even though you always look perfect, but still, you can wear pyjamas or sweatpants—”

“You made me Chat Noir sweatpants?”

“—and then I knitted you this hat just in case you wanted to hide your hair if you were having a bad hair day or something which, let’s be honest, you’ve never have a bad hair day in your life but—”

“Marinette.”

“—I know it’s going to be hard for you to leave your room and go to school and face people so I wanted to try and make sure you were as comfortable as possible—”

“Marinette.”

“—but everyone is so excited to see you back and if you’re not ready to come back than that’s okay and we’ll keep taking notes and your teacher’s are all super supportive too and—

“Marinette!”

Adrien grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her ever so slightly to get her attention, “Thank you. For everything.”

Blushing, Marinette glances down towards her toes, “Oh no.”

“What?”

“I forgot to grab your shoes!” the expressions on her face change so quickly that he can hardly keep up with them, “You’re not going to have anything to wear on your feet!”

Adrien tips his head to the side, “What are you talking about?”

“You can’t wear _those,_ ” she points her finger at the offending orange tennis shoes sitting of the rack, “I’ve got to tell Nino, he has the same size of feet as you.”

“Wait Marinette!” he calls but she’s already rushed out of the walk-in closet in search of her mobile, “Marinette slow down.”

“Gimme a second,” she opens her purse and fishes her phone from beneath her wallet, “I’m texting Nino.”

Adrien just shakes his head in wonder, “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“Hush!” Marinette looks up from her phone with determination and sets it back down in her purse, “You are going to have the best day at school tomorrow and _nothing_ is going to stop that. No one is going to be mean to you and no one is going to put one toe out of line or I swear I will—”

Adrien can’t keep his hands to himself any longer, the overwhelming feeling in his chest cresting so hard it feels like his ribcage might stretch out of his skin, and he scoops Marinette into the biggest hug he can muster, “Thank you Marinette.”

She squeals for a moment before registering what happened and immediately relaxes into his touch, “mmmpf mmppfff.”

Adrien snorts into the crown of her head, “What was that?”

Squirming in his grasp, Marinette manages to turn her head enough to be heard, “You’re welcome. Now let me go, I have food for you.”

“Nope,” Adrien squeezes her harder, trapping her within his grasp, “Not letting go.”

“If you don’t let me go this instant, I will make you,” Marinette grumbles, shimmying fruitlessly against him. Adrien savours the moment and doesn’t budge.

“Give it your best shot _Princesse_.”

Marinette’s eyes narrow, “I know all your weaknesses.”

“Yup.”

“And I happen to know that your armpits are incredibly ticklish.”

“Good luck reaching them.”

Marinette snuffles and the face she makes has him weak at the knees, “Let _gooooo_.”

“Never. You’re mine, you said so yourself.”

“Figuratively,” Marinette sticks out her tongue, “Not literally.”

“Then you should have made that clear,” Adrien can’t keep his serious façade going, not when she’s looking up at him like that, “Because you’re mine now, no take backs.”

“Ugh,” Marinette rolls her eyes and the gesture is so Ladybug it nearly makes his heart bursts, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“But I’m your ridiculous, if you’ll have me.”

“Always.”

~

She’s stuffed him full of pastries and leftover noodles by the time the episode is over and Adrien is grateful for her company, her back pressed against his chest like she belongs there. And it does, he thinks, rubbing absently at the pale strip of skin where his ring would usually sit on his finger, the band of metal still resting on the table top a few metres away.

“Are you going to put it back on?” she asks him, rolling over so she can face him. He rearranges his arms and wraps them around her waist instinctively, her weight against his front a welcome feeling against the uncomfortable numbness bubbling away in his chest.

“I’m not sure yet,” Adrien doesn’t look for Marinette’s reaction, scared of what her eyes might say, “Not right now.”

Marinette turns back towards the screen and Adrien lets his head fall against the pillow with a thud, “I’m going to miss you out there.”

Adrien wonders why her words don’t seem to affect him as much as he thought they would, “You’re Ladybug. You can keep the bad guys at bay for a little while.”

“And who will be there to tell me terrible jokes?” Marinette presses her face into the Chat Noir sweater he’d insisted on wearing for their snuggle session, “Who’s going to make love to me under the moonlight?”

That gets his attention, “You drive a _hard_ bargain Buginette.”

Marinette just shakes her head, “But in all seriousness, I can’t do this without you.”

“I need a break Marinette. You’ll have to manage without me for a while.”

She nods and queues up the next episode, “We still haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong with him.”

Adrien shifts underneath her, “Who?”

“Nooroo,” she replies, burying her face further into the folds of his sweater, “Master Fu says that the only way we can heal him is if we find the Miraculous stone itself.”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” Adrien grimaces, running his fingers along the seam of the couch absently.

Marinette peers upwards, her eyes slightly wide, “Sorry. I just…I don’t have anyone else I can talk to about it.”

Adrien doesn’t respond for a long time, “I just need a break.”

“I know,” she snuggles back into his chest, placated for now, “Take all the time that you need.”

He takes a deep breath and does his best to smile, “Have I told you how much I love you today?”

“You haven’t,” she replies, peeking up from behind her bangs, “We've been a little preoccupied haven't we?”

“Let me make it up to you,” Adrien leans down and presses his lips to hers, relieved when she responds beneath his touch, “I love you.”

Marinette runs her tongue along his lower lip, “I love you too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he murmurs as his hands gently card through her ponytails at the nape of her neck. She smiles against his lips and dips her tongue inside, savouring the feeling as he tightens his grasp and draws her closer.

“Of course Minou,” she pulls away for a moment before fixing her mouth over his again, burying her fingers in his hair. She rubs her thumbs against his temples and presses the pads of her fingers against his skull just the way he likes and he’s rumbling beneath her within seconds, melting bonelessly into her touch. It takes him a few moments to recover, his lips parting to gasp in pleasure as she presses another bruising kiss to his lips, feeding his addiction to her taste, her body pressed against his. He runs his hands up and down her spine, sending wave of pleasure coursing through her veins and she revels in the power she holds over him, drawing his lower lip between her teeth. The vibration that comes from his chest is magnetic, compelling goosepimples to dance along her skin.

She’s straddling him before he knows it, her thighs bracketing his hips like they belong there and Adrien responds just as eagerly, scrabbling for purchase as she arches against him. Marinette moans against his lips, her intentions not lost in translation as she grinds her hips and tightens her fingers in his hair, seizing the moment to indulge; he lives for these moments where she starts to lose control, her doubts stripped away as she gets a little rougher, a little more reckless with her movements. She loves to use her nails and he loves the marks they leave, little reminders of the way she can take his breath away and leave him begging for more and he wonders, not for the first time, what's stopping him from marking her.

They break apart for a moment and Marinette takes advantage of his breathlessness, ducking in towards the crook of his neck. She's peppering him with kisses that soothe the sting of her teeth against his skin and he can feel his toes curling in satisfaction, the delicious contrast ratcheting his arousal to a fever pitch and _god_ , it’s been a while since they’ve done this together without the consternation of having the proverbial rug ripped out from under his feet. It feels good to feel these feelings again, lust, need, _love._

He gasps and growls as she changes the rhythm of her hips and he trails the pads of his fingers along her ribcage until he's gripping her hips again, helping her along. The friction is addictive even with all the layers of fabric between them, his skin hypersensitive as she does something particularly sinful and his mind is spinning, reeling as she continues to devour him, lost and forever hers.

Time slows as he writhes beneath her and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the increase in pressure, the soft words of praise in his ear, the way she draws them out just so. He can feel himself reaching that precipice, that crest he’s so desperately trying not to reach but it’s here and there’s no going back, that electric, all-consuming feeling racing through him like lightening down his spine—

_“Marinette!”_

Adrien arches against the couch as his release consumes him, and he finds himself sated and sticky beneath her touch once he finally comes to and gathers his senses. She’s still sitting in his lap with the kind of self satisfied grin that Ladybug wears when she comes up with a particularly good plan and Adrien can’t help but gawk a little, his cheeks burning with a flurry of emotion he can’t begin to comprehend.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when I get to watch?” she asks, her lips curving into a carnivorous smirk, “I love that little O you make with your mouth. I love the way you say my name.”

Adrien feels himself practically begin to tremble beneath her gaze, “...wha?”

“And the way I can make you speechless, I like that too,” she laughs, hefting herself off of him, “Come on Chaton, you’re going to need your beauty rest if you’re going to go to school tomorrow.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Marinette hauls him up by the hand, her tenable strength always a source of wonder both in and out of her suit, “Get cleaned up and maybe, just maybe, I’ll reward you with a good night kiss.”

~

Waking up the next day is difficult but not entirely impossible, all things considered. He'd tried to back out of going to school three times last night but Marinette had been as stubborn as ever, his unfailingly supportive partner even without the mask. To be honest, school wasn’t even the real issue at hand; it was the screaming fans and the paparazzi he was afraid of.

Resigned, he drags himself out of bed and briefly contemplates curling back up again before ultimately fighting the urge. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore that little voice in the back of his mind, the one that sounds like Plagg when the tiny god’s patience is wearing thin. It implores him to lie down, to stop moving, to stop thinking; Adrien doesn't like how tempting it sounds.

Showering is the first thing he should do and he briefly considers it before foregoing the effort altogether. Washing his face is almost a shower, right? The compromise seems to win out and he slowly goes through the motions, padding across the carpet and onto the marble floors. He uses the soaps and lotions that Chloé’s provided him with and scrubs his face with a wet cloth, peering through his wet lashes at his reflection in the brass framed mirror.

He gasps as his eyes trail along the marks dotting his neck and shoulder blades, tiny promises of the reward that she’d ultimately convinced him to go to school with. She's never been above subterfuge when he's been involved, but last night's dealings had been one for the ages.

_“Just try, that's all I'm asking, and I promise I'll make it worth your while.”_

And so he's trying. The tiny bruises that freckle his skin, they look good and he contemplates leaving them uncovered for a moment before the blind panic takes over because what if someone sees and word gets out and gets back to his fa—

Adrien stares in horror at his reflection and tries to ignore the way his skin blanches at the thought.

Suddenly nauseous, he starts to brush his teeth before ultimately giving up, meandering instead into the closet to find something to wear. He opens the first three drawers and promptly closes them again, his heart stuttering in his chest. He has no idea what to wear, no idea how to dress himself...his clothes had always been handpicked for him by Nathalie, the pieces labelled for each and every day on Sunday afternoons.

It's pathetic but he does it anyways, his fingers trembling across the touch pad.

Adrien  
I don't know what to wear.

Marinette  
Trust your instincts. What do you want to wear?

Adrien  
Did you bring an invisibility cloak with you last night by any chance?

Marinette  
Nope, so start with the basics. Pick a pair of jeans.

Adrien  
Ok. Balmain or Dsquared?

Marinette  
The dark wash ones.

Adrien  
Ok. On top?

Marinette  
It's hot out. Something with short sleeves.

Adrien  
I've got a Givenchy one here.

Marinette  
The black one?

Adrien  
Yeah

Marinette  
Put it on. How do you look?

Adrien looks in the full length mirror and feels the swell of anxiety pushing back at his chest again.

Adrien  
I feel like I'm gonna throw up.

Marinette  
Do you need me to come over?

Adrien  
That will only draw more attention.

Marinette  
Put the hat on.

Adrien  
The hat?

Marinette  
The one I knitted for you. Put it on.

Adrien  
But you just said it was hot out.

Marinette  
Trust me. Put it on.

Adrien frowns at her response but takes her advice regardless, plucking the black hat from where he’d folded it beneath the Gucci dress shirt she’d brought over the night before and walks over to the mirror. He can’t remember the last time he’d worn a hat that wasn’t for a photoshoot and he certainly wasn’t ever allowed to wear one so...slouchy. He lifts it up and slips it over his damp, dishevelled hair and adjusts it until his bangs sweep across his forehead, covering the majority of his usually perfectly gelled and coiffed hair.

He looks...emancipated.

It’s a word that’s been floating around his head for the last twenty four hours, having signed the paperwork digitally from his lawyer before he’d gone to bed last night. His remaining family members couldn’t be contacted for obvious reasons, so it had been less difficult to convince the judge presiding over the case to grant him his freedom despite his age. He was free in a twisted sense of the word; his celebrity status made things like freedom a flight of fancy, but he’d manage somehow.

He grabs his school bag and slips his Lanvin sunglasses over his ears, taking one last glance in the mirror. He looks every bit a celebrity shuffling quasi-anonymously through CDG but if it helps getting him past the paparazzi a little faster…

“There you are! I was wondering if you’d show up.”

Chloé’s tapping her feet just outside of his door and Adrien jumps back with a start, having still been lost in his thoughts. He feels Plagg bury himself further in his hair beneath his hat as Chloé snags his arm and promptly drags him down the hall towards the elevators, chatting all the while.

“...I made sure Yves brought the car around the back today so you wouldn’t have to deal with the paparazzi,” Chloé waves her hand around in disdain, “They’ve been camped around the hotel for days and we’re about to trick them, not that it’s hard. Idiots.”

Adrien adjusts his hat in the reflection of the elevator doors, “Are you sure?”

“Trust me, no one knows you’re coming to school today except those of us in the know,” Chloé explains, tapping the B button and slipping a key into the control panel, “And they’ll never expect us to leave through the basement. It’s a foolproof plan, I thought of it myself. Come on!”

The doors open and Chloé leads him through the enormous laundry room, “The limousine is parked behind _un camion_ so no one can see it from the street. Follow me.”

Chloé’s chauffeur is already waiting inside the exterior doors of the laundry room and he opens it for them as they approach, “ _Bonjour madame, monsieur._ The coast is clear.”

“Perfect,” Chloé winks as she steps out first, looking both ways. The limousine is perfectly slotted between the two delivery trucks and Chloé shoves Adrien in first, keeping her eyes peeled for movement in amidst the trees and hedges that surround the building, “There. Time to make a getaway!”

The chauffeur closes the door and starts up the vehicle, performing a few clever turns to back the limousine out from its position. Chloé takes Adrien’s bag and sets it beside her own, elated over her victory against the paparazzi as the vehicle speeds away.

“Look at them, waiting for you at the front door. As if I’d let anyone feed you to the lions...Adrien?”

She turns and barely has a chance to react as he throws his arms around her shoulders, the fogged up lenses of his designer glasses tossed to the side, “Thank you.”

Chloé has caused a lot of tears over the years, but she’s never quite been on the receiving end of happy ones, “You’re welcome!”

* * *

 

 _[Week Thirty-Four]  
_ _[Current session]_

“Earth to Adrien, come in?”

Startled, Adrien blinks and spots his therapist leaning towards him from her chair, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, I just lost my train of thought,” Adrien brushes his bangs from his eyes, “What were we talking about again?”

Docteur Renée reclines against the backrest and smiles, all too familiar with Adrien’s moments of reflection, “The holidays. Your friends.”

“Oh right,” Adrien nods his head in acknowledgement, “Yeah, they were lifesavers over the Christmas holidays.”

“I can imagine,” Docteur Renée rolls her stylus between her fingers, “You already mentioned that you were invited over to Marinette’s on Christmas Eve. Tell me more about that.”

Adrien’s expression changes, “It was one of the weirdest evenings in my life, but in a good way.”

“How so?”

“It was...it was like I was sucked into a movie, you know? There was a Christmas tree and Christmas lights and Sabine made this incredible meal. I even got to help make it! And Tom, he taught me how to decorate the _fraisier_ he’d prepared for dessert and Marinette, she made me a hand knit sweater and matching mittens and I couldn’t even...it was amazing!”

“But…”

Adrien seems to slump into the cushions, “How can I repay them? They treat me so kindly...did you know Tom told me I could call him Papa the other day? I mean, it was a joke but still. It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real.”

“There’s nothing to feel guilty about Adrien.”

“But there is!” he tosses his arms up into the air and lets them drop lifelessly at his sides, “I can’t _do_ anything for them! I can’t bake them a cake or knit them a sweater. I don’t have any skills! I was a model, I can stand around and take a good picture, oohh so useful!”

“Adrien—”

“No. Look, I know what you’re going to say, I’m not entirely useless, I get that. But still, that doesn’t take away from the fact that I have these people who seems to think the world of me and...I don’t know how to deal with it!”

“Love isn’t a transaction Adrien.”

“But isn’t it?” he tugs at his hair in frustration, “They love me and I don’t even know what love is!”

“Sure you do,” Docteur Renée insists, “You love Marinette, you love your friends. You love volunteering and helping children.”

“I didn’t always,” Adrien murmurs.

“No, but I think that was a lie you told yourself, that you still tell yourself,” Docteur Renée leans forwards, her stare intense, “You have an innate fear of being rejected and it only makes sense, all things considered. You’ve been fed a steady diet of criticism all your life, so that’s understandable, and lashing out as a way to protect yourself is a perfectly normal coping mechanism for someone going through a traumatic time.”

“But this feeling, this sense of fear you get when someone genuinely seems to love you is something that takes time to work through. Right now, you’re afraid that they’ll accept you in as their son and then they’ll suddenly begin to see who you really are and not like you anymore. Am I making sense so far?”

Adrien swallows uncomfortably, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“So, even though they consider you a part of their family and have taken you in as they have, you worry that at some point, they may reject you.”

“Yes.”

“In essence, all you’re doing is trying to play it safe and keep them at arms length as a preemptive measure to protect yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Does...does that sound as silly to you as it does to me?”

Adrien blinks owlishly and nods, “Yes.”

“You are not as unlovable as you think you are,” Docteur Renée takes a deep breath and offers him an honest smile, “No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, there are people out there who will love you unconditionally. Let them in Adrien. Let them in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm back to the _grind_ , I'm remembering just how challenging it is to write angst! Puns aside, I truly hope you're enjoying the _ride_.
> 
> As always, I enjoying hearing your voices and your reactions. They help inspire me to write, especially when you point out something that particularly interests you. After all, there would be no Safeword if it weren't for all of the people who left comments on Masquerade!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed.


	4. Week Two (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy sinners!

__ [Week 2]  
_ [Patient: Adrien Agreste]  
_ __ [Progress: Unknown] 

Adrien is fairly sure he’s nervously drank half his body weight in water by the time Chloe’s limousine finally pulls up to the front of the school and it takes all of his blonde friend’s brute strength to push him out the door and onto the sidewalk. His knees are threatening to quit beneath his weight as Chloe drags him along, chatting amicably in his ear about something or other but all he can hear is the buzz in his ears, that awful static noise that makes his head spin and his body numb. 

It takes the student population several moments to recognise him, what with the hat and the glasses and the stuttering gait but they do eventually, flooding in from all sides. Chloe hisses at them to keep their distance and they heed her warning, waiting on the eaves of his personal space until Chloe successfully gets him through the doors and down the hall to his locker.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Chloe flicks her ponytail and offers him a toothy grin, “Now, let’s get you ready for class. What’s your homeroom again?”

“Biology,” Adrien murmurs, his hackles rising as other students begin to fill the corridor. He tries to make himself as small as he can while Chloe spins the code on his combination lock and tries to keep breathing in and out, in and out. Plagg is kneading his paws against the hairs at the nape of his neck and Adrien knows it will look like a bird’s nest later but he takes comfort in it nonetheless, the rhythm constant, comforting and soothing.

“There,” Chloe announces, unzipping his bookbag and shoving two heavy textbooks inside, “Well, what are you standing there for? Do you want to be late?”

Adrien shakes his head, afraid of what might escape his lips if he opens them.

“Of course not, I know you what you’re like  _ M. Bibliophile. _ Always studying and working hard,” Chloe wraps her arm around his again and tugs him along once more, “I’m only slightly envious. Papa said he’ll buy me a Bentley if I pass my  _ Bac _ with Honours but I don’t see that happening. I am a woman of politics, not a bookworm like you.”

Adrien swallows uncomfortably, “You want to get into politics?”

“Well of course,” Chloe throws him an odd look, “Clearly I’d be amazing at it. My Papa is the mayor of Paris and I attend all of his important meetings. I already know all the ins and outs of the business and I just so happen to know all the dirty secrets of every beaurocrat in Paris. I am absolutely perfect for the job.”

Adrien nods and keeps his head down as they pass by the atrium, “I have to go to the washroom.”

Chloe gives him the once over, “You’re not going to be sick are you?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Adrien swallows the bile building at the back of his throat, “If you see Nino, could you tell him where I am?”

“I suppose I could deign to speak to the masses,” Chloe concedes, sticking her nose up into the air, “Don’t be too long.”

“I’ll try not to,” Adrien murmurs and hurries inside.

~

“Bro!”

Adrien grimaces at his reflection in the mirror as Nino barges into the male washroom and sides up to him immediately, “You made it dude! Alya and Marinette are gonna be stoked!”

Adrien nods absently and tries to will his shuddering knees into submission, “Y-yeah.”

Nino’s expression changes from elated to concerned, “Are you okay man? Is there something I can do for you?”

Adrien shakes his head, “I'll be fine in a minute. Go on ahead without me.”

“No way bro,” Nino turns and starts digging through his bag, “Whenever I get stage fright at a gig, I gotta eat. Here!”

Nino fishes a slightly crumpled bag of  _ ghriba _ from beneath his iPad and holds it in front of Adrien’s face, “Cookies! Eat some, they're awesome.”

Adrien smiles placatingly, “It's okay Nino, I don't...I know they're your favourite.”

“But they're pistachio,” Nino singsongs, shaking the bag with a grin as Adrien’s eyes widen perceptibly, “Come on, you know you want one.”

“I guess one wouldn't hurt,” Adrien replies, his eyes zooming in on the cookies inside almost comically. Behind his back, Nino pumps his fist victoriously and hands him the bag, smiling as he tugs his dessert smitten friend out the door.

Unsurprisingly, the bag is nearly empty by the time Nino leads Adrien into his homeroom seat and the blond looks up sheepishly, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “I'm sorry I ate all your cookies.”

“There's more where those came from,” Nino slaps a hand on his shoulder, revelling in the victory of winning the bet by stuffing his best friend with treats before Alya could. He smirks at his girlfriend over his shoulder and sits down alongside Adrien, “My mum bought a couple extra boxes for when you come over.”

“Really?” Adrien responds, his lips caked in cookie crumbs. It's certainly not the most nutritious breakfast on the planet but it won't be his last as Alya tosses a container of leftover quiche lorraine onto the surface of his desk, “What's this?”

“Marinette told on you,” Alya explains, flashing him a dangerous look over the rims of her glasses, “You haven't been eating properly.”

Adrien eyes the container and gulps, “But I—”

“She says you're just too shy to head down to  _ La Grande Paris’ _ restaurant, also known as  _ my Maman’s _ restaurant, but I know the truth,” Alya leans closer just to watch him sweat, “And I am not having it.”

“W-what?”

“You are going to start ordering food for yourself,” Alya slowly leans over and taps the tip of Adrien’s nose, “Or I will personally deliver it myself and watch you while you eat it, do you understand?”

Adrien nods minutely, his eyes blown wide.

“Good!” Alya straightens and sits back into her chair with a smug grin, “Maman also asked if you'd be interested in learning how to cook a few dishes for yourself. Easy recipes, like eggs and pasta, that kind of thing. She said she could help you between lunch and dinner hour if you wanted.”

Adrien doesn't even know what to say, “I…”

Alya raises her palm, “Think about it and let me know later. By the way, do you know where Marinette is?”

It had been an unspoken thing that had cropped up and changed the status quo, the relationship between Adrien and Marinette still fresh and relatively unknown to those around them. Up to now, they hadn’t actually acknowledged it at school; so far as everyone was aware, Adrien was still seeing some mysterious American model and Marinette had long given up on trying to woo Adrien altogether, settling with just being one if his best friends. They hadn't quite tricked their other two best friends though, judging by the way they'd both grilled them for information day in and day out until the day  _ Le Papillon _ was outed and everything went to hell. Still, Alya and Nino had long guessed that they were seeing each other under the radar and it was only a matter of time before one or the other would finally crack beneath the pressure.

Frowning, Adrien fishes his mobile from his back pocket, “Her Student Council meeting ran late.”

“Figures,” Alya shrugs and points at the container of quiche in front on him, “Eat. Now.”

Nino leans over and mock whispers in his ear, “I would listen if I were you. She’s scary.”

Alya rolls her eyes as she unrolls a fork from inside a napkin and promptly stabs him with it before handing it off to Adrien.

~

Adrien’s not sure he’s ever felt this level of exhaustion in his life. 

He loves school, don’t get him wrong, but he forgot just how mentally and physically draining it can be. He’s only been off for a week but it feels like he’s been gone for months and it shows, judging by all the holes in his knowledge made evident throughout his lectures. All of his teachers had been incredibly supportive, dropping Powerpoint presentations, videos and notes into the cloud for him to study later at home, but the sheer depth of learning he’d missed weighs on his shoulders like a stone.

Of course, the fact that the  _ Baccalauréat _ was to take place in two weeks didn’t help either.

Like every  _ lycéen _ and _ lycéenne _ en France, Adrien was required to take part in the massively comprehensive week of exams where his future would ultimately be decided. The end of the  _ Bac _ marks the successful end of a student's secondary studies and the results of said test would lead to all of the university courses Adrien had been dreaming of taking for months.  _ Terminale _ was always an incredibly stressful year for any student but Adrien had actually been finding it quite enjoyable and stimulating in terms of all of the amazing things he’d been learning…

But that was then.

Now, Adrien feels the telltale signs of fear creeping up his spine and into his shoulders as he hunches over a particularly difficult practice essay question in philosophy, racking his brain for something to write. Every thought he has seems to turn to dust each time he tries to grasp for it, his pen shaking between his fingers. He’s barely written three paragraphs when M. Langevin places his hand on his shoulder and beckons him silently for him to come over to his desk with a tip of his chin.

“Do you need some assistance?” M. Langevin asks quietly, keeping his voice low over the sounds of frenzied handwriting filling the hall. Adrien nods stiffly in response and glances down at his paper.

“I...I’m not sure what...my brain…” Adrien tries not to let his frustration show but his ebbing patience has all but disappeared, “I’m trying to argue why Sartre’s belief that “existence precedes essence” applies more to Estelle than to the other characters but...I’m having a hard time focussing.”

Langevin nods thoughtfully, “I didn’t expect you to choose  _ Huis Clos _ as your essay topic. Wouldn’t an analysis of  _ La Nausée _ have been an easier option?”

“I guess,” Adrien shrugs, “I just...it felt easier to talk about Estelle.”

“I can see why,” M. Langevin leans back into his chair and surveys the students at their desks before him, “As a person who doubts her very own existence, Estelle feels she has no identity, no appearance, no value unless acknowledged by another person. She sees herself only as others do and is so desperate for a mirror to reassure herself of her physicality that the theme of “existence precedes essence” predominates the first arc of her story. But you already knew that.”

Adrien nods as his teacher continues, “I think what we forget about the message of  _ Huis Clos _ is the effect that others have on the self. These characters are so wrapped up in their own troubles that they fail to acknowledge the crux of the matter in the world they’re now eternally trapped in. It’s that ultimate struggle of power that bleeds into the true message of the story.”

“Hell is other people.”

“In essence, yes, but there’s more to it then that. Why is hell other people?”

Adrien pauses for a moment and tries to wrap his brain around the question, “Because other people can change your perception of yourself?”

“Absolutely. People don't have power over us Adrien. We give it to them.”

~

The sun is just starting to dip beneath the horizon when Adrien comes to, having dropped like a stone onto his couch the moment he’d breached the threshold of his hotel room. He’s beyond exausted even after the impromptu two hour nap and it shows, judging by the hollowness in this chest and the lethargy in his movement as he rolls off the couch and lays on the floor for several long moments, staring up at the ceiling.

“Comfortable?”

Adrien nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden voice from the bedroom, “Who’s there?!”

Ladybug pokes her head out, “Me silly. Who else would it be?”

Adrien clutches his heaving chest and nods, his blood rushing in his ears, “ _ Merde alors… _ ”

“Did I scare you?” Ladybug sashays out towards where he’s still sprawled on the carpet, “I came to see you after school but you were snoring on the couch and I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

“You should have,” Adrien insists weakly, gathering himself, “I almost had a heart attack.”

Ladybug crouches down to his level and plucks a package of chopsticks from where she’d tucked them in her belt, “Nothing a little food won’t fix. I brought takeaway.”

“Oooh,” Adrien’s stomach rumbles traitorously, “From where?”

“My oncle's restaurant,” Ladybug replies, setting the chopsticks on one of his outstretched knees, “It’s going to get cold if you don’t get up right now and help me eat it.”

“Is that the same oncle that tried to kill us with a giant pizza sword?”

Ladybug grimaces, “The one and only.”

Adrien shakes his head, “Of all of the akuma we’ve fought over the years, that was one of the most ridiculous ones.”

“The pigeon man was worse,” Ladybug chuckles into the back of her hand, “Or the baby? Remember the baby?”

“How could I forget?” Adrien begins to laugh, “Especially since that was the day you tried to ask me out.”

“Ugh…” Ladybug scrubs her hands across her face, “You weren’t ever supposed to know about that.”

“Nino has been trying to get me to admit that we’re dating by bringing up all the times you tried to seduce me.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Ladybug buries her face in her palms again, “Ugghhhhh…”

“If it’s any consolation, I had no idea you were flirting with me at the time.”

“Trust me, I know,” Ladybug flops onto her back beside him, her cheeks flaming red, “You friendzoned me for  _ years _ .”

“Because you were my friend!” Adrien defends himself, rolling onto his side to face her, “It didn’t even occur to me that people wanted to date me.”

“Again, I know,” Ladybug is suddenly struck with realisation, “Wait, teenage heartthrob Adrien Agreste didn’t realise the entire city of Paris wanted to marry him?”

“Kind of? I mean, I’m barely allowed to have friends. Can you imagine what my...my…” Adrien turns back to the ceiling and frowns, “Can you imagine what he would have said about a relationship?”

Ladybug senses the palpable strain the conversation has taken and props herself up on her elbow, “Not much he can say about it now.”

“I guess not,” Adrien’s voice is strained, the lines of his forehead suddenly etching further into his skin, “Can we eat now? I’m kind of hungry.”

Ladybug can catch a hint when she sees one, “Of course! We can eat it down here if you want.”

“I…” Adrien trails off, “That would be great.”

“I’ll be just a second,” Ladybug kicks up from the ground into a standing position and disappears into the bedroom. There’s a flash of red sparkles from behind the door frame and she walks out as Marinette with three containers and two plates balanced in her hands, “I’ve got spicy ginger beef, satay pork noodles and chow mein.”

Adrien fights the urge to continue laying prone against the carpet and sits up as soon as the aroma hits his nose, “Smells good.”

“I wasn’t sure what your favourite dishes were so I ordered the three most popular ones,” Marinette explains, sitting cross legged on the floor beside him, “The ginger beef is my favourite.”

“Then I’ll have to try that one first then,” Adrien helps her remove the lids and peers down at the steaming food waiting within, “I’ve only had Chinese when I was abroad and even then, I’m not sure it was very authentic.”

“No?” Marinette unsheathes her chopsticks from the paper wrapping, “Didn’t you go to Hong Kong last year though?”

“For a modelling gig,” Adrien mirrors her movements and separates the chopsticks with a crack, “So it was nothing but carrot sticks and Perrier for me until the last night we were there.”

Marinette plucks a few slices of ginger beef from the container and sets them on her plate as he continues, “We were staying at The Peninsula, which is a really fancy hotel and instead of attending the parties with the rest of the models and the crew, I had to go and eat at this gourmet restaurant with my...you know. Anyway, we’re in Hong Kong and I’m thinking that he’ll be taking me to a gourmet Chinese restaurant or something but...we ate at a French restaurant. A French restaurant! In Hong Kong!”

“Really?” Marinette grimaces around a mouthful of noodles, “Was it any good at least?”

“Your bakery’s day old pastries tasted better than their fresh ones,” Adrien responds, his lips curling in disdain, “I met up with one of the other models later and he had the local restaurant they went to put together a takeaway container for me with some dim sum in it. It was really good even though it had gone cold by the time I got to eat it.”

Marinette scoops some more chow mein onto his plate and puts a little more on her own, “I’ll take you to my uncle’s restaurant one day when this starts to blow over. He makes some of the best dim sum I’ve ever had.”

“No wonder your mother is such a good cook.”

Marinette nods, “Cooking runs in the family. My  _ YeYe _ was very happy when Maman married a baker.”

“What about you though?” Adrien shovels another pile of noodles into his mouth, “Do you like cooking and baking?”

“I mean, it’s not like I hate it,” Marinette replies, staring pensively at her food, “I’m pretty good at it but I wouldn’t necessarily want to make a career out of it.”

“Understandable.”

“I just...I like the really detailed part of it like icing the cakes and making the rosettes and the decorating and stuff, but I prefer putting my efforts into something that lasts longer, like clothing.”

“Have you looked into schools yet?”

“I have,” Marinette looks up from her plate and makes eye contact briefly, “I’ve already gotten my portfolio going and I’ll be starting an apprenticeship in July.”

“Really?” This is the first Adrien’s heard about this, “An apprenticeship? Where?”

“Maison Michel.”

“WHAT?!” Adrien exclaims, nearly spewing his chow mein all over the floor, “You got an apprenticeship  _ there _ ?!”

“I did,” Marinette looks an odd mix of proud and worried, “I’ve been submitting hat and  _ coquetterie _ designs to  _ L’institut Marangoni _ for the past few months now in the hope of getting an early acceptance to the school and one of the recruiters asked if I wanted to be involved in the summer apprenticeship program that they offer there and I went for it.”

“Wow,” Adrien doesn’t quite know what to say, “When did this happen? Today?”

“About a week ago,” Marinette ducks her head sheepishly, “I didn't say anything because...you know.”

“Oh,” Adrien swallows uncomfortably and stares down at his now empty plate, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Marinette beams and collects the plate from his hands, “By the way, when was the last time you had a shower?”

Adrien’s eyes shoot open, surprised by the turn in conversation, “Uhhh…I don’t know?”

She laughs through her nose, “I can tell. Come on smelly cat, let’s get you washed.”

Adrien grimaces, “Do I smell that bad?”

“It will make you feel better, I promise.”

Adrien goes to protest but the lethargy in his bones from before has lessened and there’s a hand in front of his face, beckoning him to stand. He laces their fingers together and lets her pull him to his feet, pausing only briefly to fight the sudden dizziness from having been on the floor for so long. Grimacing, he swallows against it and keeps his eyes focused on the open door of the bathroom on the other side of the room.

“I’ll be out here,” she says, leading him inside, “Take your time and yell if you need me.”

Adrien nods and closes the door part way, out of precaution more than anything, especially once he gets a good look at himself in the mirror.

His vision swims momentarily as he peels off his shirt, the fabric scratchy against his anaesthetised skin. He feels disconnected to his body, dull green eyes reflecting back against an expanse of pale skin made ashen by the dark circles hugging the bags beneath his eyes. His lips are pallid, his hair a greasy, matted mess after an entire day beneath his hat.

He hasn’t looked this bad since…since his mother went missing.

Turning away, he shucks his pants and socks off his body and starts the shower, leaning heavily against the white tile. The coolness feels good against his temple and he rolls his neck so his forehead can press against the tile as well, soothing and lessening the discomfort thrumming through his veins. He steps gingerly beneath the showerhead and loses himself to the pounding of the water all around him, filling his ears and mind and Adrien tries to breath deeply against the rising steam, filling his lungs and making the skin on his face tingle, chiseling away at the numbness to expose the hurt beneath.

The water stings his scalp as he dips his head under the stream and it feels like he’s trying to see his reflection through a fogged-up glass, the image he knows is there obstructed by some intangible force he can’t wipe away. Thoughts and memories filter through his mind like a sieve, ideas and entire sentences falling through the cracks. He suddenly feels tears well up in his eyes that he can’t control, feels rage and frustration and grief at the inability to find any self-restraint. He knows he can’t share what’s happening to him with anyone around him because how could he? How could he explain what happened, what’s happening to him right now when he can’t even explain it himself?

He smashes his hand against the tiled wall in frustration but he doesn’t hit it hard enough to bleed. It stings as he inspects his knuckles before diving back underneath the spray, resolving to just get this over with. He pours shampoo in his hands and begins to lather it through his hair and grinds his teeth against the swell of anger that rises in his belly, relishing at the red sensation amid a wash of numbness and grey.

He’s thinking in colour, he’s hearing sounds he knows aren’t there. He opens his eyes and has a fleeting moment of clarity before it’s inundated again by the cacophony in his head, dislodged sounds and symbols and thoughts and emotions and snapshots and smells and shapes and screams and shouting—

“Are you alright in there?”

Her voice feels like a dam locking into place, clamping down on the deluge of stimulus overwhelming him. He tries to focus on her voice and his lips part, lost on how to respond.

“Adrien?”

“I’m okay,” he says, and it’s quiet and cheap. He’s not okay, not even remotely, and a small part of him hopes Marinette can discern that through the hollowness of his voice.

“Okay. I picked out an outfit for you to wear to school tomorrow. I left it hanging on the door.”

Adrien swallows thickly and doesn’t respond for a moment, feeling the emotions he can’t seem to get a grasp on welling up in his throat again.

“Th-thank you.”

~

He has to admit, Marinette was right when she suggested he have a shower. He feels infinitely better, cathartic even now that he's scrubbed himself clean and dried his hair with the towel now wrapped around his waist and he says as much to her, walking out into the bedroom. She looks up immediately and her smile brightens his mood like a beacon, warm and comforting in the seemingly never-ending dark.

“Well, don't you look squeaky clean,” she remarks, setting her phone to the side.

He feels his lips turn up despite himself, “I wouldn't mind getting dirty again.”

“Well, I guess I did promise you something for being brave and going to school today,” she shifts onto her hands and knees and crawls across the bed, “You did so well today and I'm proud of you.”

Adrien feels a swell of pride bubble up in his chest, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she assures him, sitting back on her haunches, “You were very brave.”

Adrien approaches her as if he were caught in a siren’s call, his eyes glued to her silhouette as she loosens her ponytails and lets her hair cascade down her shoulders, “I was very impressed when you spoke up and answered some questions in Mme. Mouret’s class today.”

His heartbeat begins to race as he finally makes it to the side of the bed, the knot of his towel loosening with ever stride until it's only barely hanging on his hips. Smirking, Marinette tiptoes her fingers up his chest, pausing at the hollow of his throat to dip the tip of her thumb between his lips.

“You've been a very good boy,” she whispers and his pupils dilate, the thrum of arousal stirring between his thighs even without the heat to drive him, “Such a very good boy.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she hooks her legs around his knees and revels in the soft blush that spreads across his cheeks, “And I’d like to reward you.”

She’s become well acquainted with his muscles, the lines of his body, the light spray of freckles across his chest and shoulders after the last few months that they’ve spent together, fucking on rooftops and making love beneath lilac trees and fairy lights. The setting may have changed now that they know each other’s identities but Marinette still loves to trace the muscles of his abdomen with her eyes, the hollows of his hip bones, the tuft of blond hair just above the barrier of terry cloth hiding his skin. Her eyes linger there for a long moment before moving on to his legs and feet, enjoying the view unabashedly, drinking him in.

“Beautiful,” Marinette murmurs as she reaches out, hooking an outstretched finger around the knot of his towel and unravelling it with a tug. He breathes out as her fingertips brush the skin of his inner thighs almost imperceptibly, his gasps turning into strangled moans as she continues to tease, grazing the root of his cock and ever lower, exploring him as he stands bare before her. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as her fingers continue to dance along his skin, his cock now resting thick and hard against his abdomen.

“Join me”, she says simply, fixing him beneath her gaze and all he can do is nod as he sits down beside her, barely fighting the urge to close his eyes and throw his head back, desperate to lose himself to the sensation. Still fully clothed, Marinette crawls across his lap and presses her lips to his, parting them slowly. His tongue dips inside, teasing and hungry as she reaches between them to wrap her hand around his erection and she swallows his moans with her kiss.

“Let me make you feel good,” she leans back to shuck her shirt over her head and shimmies off of his lap quickly, parting his thighs with her palms. His hips arch instinctively as she presses him back onto the pillows and he lets out another gasp as she settles beneath his thighs and licks him root to tip.

He reaches for her, his fingers entwining in her hair as her tongue presses against his head insistently, warm and wet, pulling her to him. Groaning, he sinks against the duvet as she gently bobs up and down his shaft, the sensitive tip slipping past her lips over and over again until she’d built up a steady rhythm and she punctuates her movements with her hands, jerking him off while she licks and sucks and he can feel his chest rising, his breath quick and shallow. She’s got him in the palm of her hand as he’s moaning and writhing and she anchors his hips with a warning, her teeth grazing ever so gently on the underside of his cock and  _ fuck _ if he doesn’t nearly come then and there.

He’s crying her name as her pace grows ever onwards and he throws his head back with a hoarse gasp as she hums around his cock, his orgasm slowly and steadily building up within him. His breaths are ragged, his moans deep and low, speaking volumes as she sucks hard enough for him to see stars, his cock hard and dripping. Her efforts are tearing him apart and he’s laid waste to the sensation as his climax sneaks up on him, swift and blinding and all consuming and she holds him through it all, only stopping when she feels his muscles relax around her, sated and drained. Gently, she presses a kiss to the hollow of his hip and leans back to sit on her heels, massaging her jaw with her fingertips.

No one speaks as she tosses her jeans to the side and lays down beside him in a tangle of limbs, stroking his hair idly until his telltale purr begins to fill the room, luxuriating in the afterglow. She cups his chin in her hands and kisses him softly before settling in the cook of his neck, her arms wrapping around his chest. He tries to fight the urge to close his eyes, tries to remember his girlfriend laying beside him, nuzzling against him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear…

He succumbs to the incoherence, the exhaustion, and promptly falls asleep.

~

“Well? Are you ready to go?”

Marinette gathers her clothes and quickly pulls her jeans over her legs, fastening the button easily in the dark, “Come on, we don’t have all night.”

“Do I have to?” Plagg grouses, burrowing himself deeper into the mound of socks in the corner of the sectional. Tikki thwarts his efforts by tugging on his tail hard enough to sting and the Black Cat Miraculous hisses, baring his canines in the ambient light coming in from the streets.

“I can’t do this alone,” Marinette glares at the kwarmi, pausing only to tug her shirt over her head, “I need Chat Noir now more than ever.”

“And if we can’t have him, then you’ll just have to do,” Tikki responds, pressing up against her other half in apology. Plagg purses his lips as Tikki gently runs his whiskers through her paws, their silence punctuated by the soft snores drifting in from the bedroom, “Your kitten’s asleep. You don’t need to worry about him.”

“What if he gets up and wonders where I am?”

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” Marinette smirks at Adrien’s sleeping form over her shoulder, “He’ll be out for at least a few hours. I’ll have you back here before he knows it.”

Plagg’s glower only deepens, “I don’t see how I’m going to be of any help.”

Marinette sighs, having already had this argument the night before after tucking her thoroughly exhausted boyfriend into bed, “I need a second pair of eyes to help me find a way into his lair. Chief Raincomprix found the receipts from the contractors but we can’t find a way to get there beyond blowing a hole in the floor.”

“We didn’t get anywhere last night,” Plagg grouses, crossing his paws over his chest, “We’re just wasting our time.”

“That’s because we didn’t know that the entrance was in the office last night,” Marinette replies, slinging her purse over her shoulder, “But now that we’ve narrowed it down, we should be able to find it tonight.”

“Fine,” Plagg concedes, helpless to the bug’s coddling; he’s never been able to resist her hairbrained schemes for long, “But for the record, I hate this plan.”

Marinette grins and scoops the cat kwarmi up with her palms, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his forehead, “You’re such a good boy.”

Tikki zooms past, giggling at the uncharacteristic gobsmacked expression on the kwarmi’s face as his ears flop sideways, “Ready Marinette?”

“Absolutely,” she replies earnestly, tucking Plagg into her ponytails, “Let’s go find Nooroo. Tikki, transforme-moi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! A lot is starting to come together...it's shaping up to be quite the ride. What do you think is going to happen? Will the find the Miraculous? Will Adrien find out Marinette's been stealing Plagg behind his back?
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	5. Week Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've covered grief and fear and lethargy and now it's time to tackle anger. Enjoy!

__ [Week 3]  
_ [Patient: Adrien Agreste]  
_ __ [Progress: Unknown] 

Marinette throws her head back and gasps as he drags his teeth against the sinews of her neck, laving the bright red marks there with his tongue; he has her right where he wants her, her back pressed against the wall beside his dining table, only a few scant steps from his bed. He lets his hands roam her body, cupping her ass and hoisting her up until she's got her legs wrapped around his waist like a vice, groaning his name against his lips. He loves when she calls him Adrien these days, his time as Chat Noir gone but not forgotten.

It was why she was here tonight.

She drives a hard bargain but Adrien isn’t having it, distracting her in the ways he knows best, his fingers gliding up her bare ribcage. She’s overworked as Ladybug and stressed as their  _ baccalauréat _ examination looms over them like a dark cloud, only a few dreaded days away. He’s not entirely worried but she is, frenzied to a point where he can easily rebuke her persuasive arguments and fuck her senseless into the lush pillows of his new home at  _ La Grande Paris _ .

She bites her lip and whimpers as she grinds her hips against him, grappling for purchase against his cotton t-shirt. He smirks and brushes his lips against her ear, his fingers slipping along the seam of her tights to press against her centre, “So eager…”

She pulls back for a moment, glaring at him from beneath her lashes, “Don’t be a tease.”

“As you wish,” he dips his head and smirks, unwilling to wait any longer.

He’d feel guilty of taking advantage like this, except he hasn’t been feeling much of anything lately. He doesn’t care if he passes or fails his  _ bac  _ at this point so why bother anyway? He’s not going to be some great physicist like he’d once aspired to be. He’s got cash in the bank thanks to his lawyer and there are so many other things he’d like to do, like get the hell out of Paris for a while.

Of course, there’s only one thing keeping him from throwing it all away right now and she’s pleading against him, dragging him to his bed and sliding onto his lap like she belongs there, and she does. She wraps her arms around his neck and straddles him, grinding up against his cock still trapped in his torn jeans, the same ones she’d helped him distress the other afternoon. Loosening up on his image has been the most rewarding thing he’s done since his life had fallen to pieces around him and it felt  _ good _ .

She moans as he runs his tongue along her neck and gasps as he bites down hard enough to bruise, just the way she likes. They’ve always been a little rough, a little brutal with each other, their penchant for getting beaten up every other afternoon bleeding into their preferences. He pushes her back onto the bed and slips his shirt over his head, watching as she shucks her tights from her legs and snaps the elastic of her panties with a smirk.

“Hurry up Chaton,” she runs her tongue against her lips and Adrien growls, his burgeoning irritation for the nickname still unspoken between them. He kicks his jeans and briefs from his ankles and rejoins her on the bed, gathering her up into his lap once again. 

“Mmm…” she whimpers as he grinds up against her, his fingers pushing her panties to the side. His cocks throbs as they slide up against each other, slick and wet as he grips her ass and presses against her folds.

Her eyes are pleading as he pulls back ever so slightly and he revels in the sudden surge of power he feels, a fantasy he hadn’t truly indulged in until recent weeks. He’d had a taste of it when they were still unknown to each other, their identities still foreign behind their masks, but now?

“What are you waiting for?”

The words slip from his lips before he has a chance to stop them, challenging her in the best of ways. Her eyes widen as he aligns his cock with her entrance and he leans back, bracing himself with his palm on the duvet as she hovers over him, “Well?”

A blush spreads across her chest as she slowly lowers herself, taking him completely. She lets out a shaky breath and presses her hand against his chest, needing all the leverage she can get as she sets the pace. Her legs are shaking, her lower lip swollen with the way she’s been worrying at it between her teeth, her breasts bouncing with every rise and fall. Adrien can barely hold himself back as she dips her head and moans, the sound needy and desperate in her throat, “Please…”

Shifting his weight, Adrien grasps her hips and flips her around, slamming her back onto the mattress. She writhes and wraps her thighs around his waist as he plunges back inside of her, her eyes glazed over, her pupils blown wide. His rhythm is ruthless as she begs him to go faster, harder, driving himself in and out of her with a one track focus before reaching down between them. His fingertips graze her clit and she cries out as she tightens her grip on his shoulders and he relishes in the control she gives up to him, picking up speed. She’s trembling and his cock twitches at the sensation, her fingernails digging into the nape of his neck as she finds her release, tumbling over the edge as he continues to pound against her, thrusting as deeply as he can while she quivers.

Shuddering, he comes a few moments later and groans into the junction of her neck, collapsing in exhaustion on top of her. He feels the beads of sweat sting the scratch marks along his shoulder blades as he eventually flops onto his back, taking in the way her breasts sway with every deep intake of breath, her hair sprawled everywhere against the Egyptian cotton bed sheets. 

He revels in the way his body aches with exertion...maybe he’ll finally get some sleep tonight.

Usually, he’d be the first to make a comment or a joke or ask her a question but tonight, he doesn’t really feel like talking. There’s something simmering in his abdomen that’s more than just the pleasant glow of post-coital satisfaction and he’s not sure he wants to ruin the feeling if it decides to rear its ugly head.

He feels her roll onto her side and cuddle up to him as he continues to stare up at the ceiling, now actively fighting with his thoughts. He should be enjoying the moment but here he is yet again, focusing suddenly on the negative things in his life and—

“What’s the matter Chaton? Cat got your tongue?”

Any other day, Adrien would laugh at the pun and maybe respond with one of his own, capturing her lips in a chaste, loving kiss with the promise of something more, but tonight? 

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbles, glaring at the plaster above his head.

She gasps, “Wh...you want me to stop calling you Chaton?”

“Yes!” he reacts forcefully, digging his fingertips into his palms, “I just...don’t want you to anymore.”

She sits up in shock, holding the sheets to her chest, “What are you talking about?”

He rolls away from her and continues to glare daggers at the walls, “I’m not Chat Noir right now alright? I’m Adrien.”

She reaches out and presses her hand against his shoulder, “I don’t understand…”

“Well, that’s too bad,” he shrugs her hand off his skin and sits up, swinging his legs around to keep his back to her, “Chat Noir is officially retired.”

“But, the other day you said—”

“I know what I said and it doesn’t matter,” Adrien gets up and stomps over to the washroom, shame and guilt and anger welling in his gut, “I’m done.”

“Adrien!”

He slams the bathroom door and locks it before she can catch up and he heaves a shaky breath before turning on the shower. He can’t bear to look at her and see her hurt, her sadness, her sympathy. He can hear her knocking and he tunes it out with the pounding of the water on his back and shoulders, washing her away, washing it all away. He’d scrub himself raw if it meant he could get rid of his memories too, but life didn’t work like it did in the movies.

He was finding that out the hard way.

He turns off the shower and pats himself dry before going back into the bedroom. He’d honestly hoped she’d be gone by now but she’s fully dressed and scowling, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

“You can’t run away from your problems and you certainly can’t run away from me,” she announces, drumming her fingernails against her forearms, “What is going on?”

Adrien’s shoulders slump as he disappears into his walk-in closet for a change of clothes, “Nothing.”

He hears her bark of laughter through the walls at it only makes him angrier, “This is not nothing. Talk to me Adrien, when have we ever lied to each other?”

“Uh, only our entire relationship?” he snarks back, popping his head past the threshold, “Our entire partnership was built off a lie.”

“We had to lie to protect each other,” Marinette defends vehemently, jumping to her feet, “You  _ know _ that.”

“Doesn’t mean I agreed with it,” he growls back, pulling a shirt over his head, “Plus you lied to me about Master Fu—”

“I wasn’t allowed to say anything!”

“And Loïc Lhérault? Remember when you lied to me about him?”

“Adrien—”

“No,” Adrien slaps his hand against the wall, “Don’t talk to me about lies. You have lied to me more times than I can count.”

Marinette takes a step forwards, “And I’m sorry about that, but now that everything is out in the open, we need to be honest with each other. Please Adrien, tell me what’s wrong so I can try and help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Yes you do!” she insists, taking another step towards him, “I can help you!” 

“No you can’t!” Adrien’s voice rises higher in volume than he’s ever heard it and it vibrates deep in his core as he takes a step towards her, “You don’t know what I’m going though! You have no idea! No idea! You have no idea what it’s like because you’ve always had parents that actually loved you! You’ve never felt what it’s like to be me! My parents abandoned me! My mother? She disappeared and my father? Look what he became! A psychopath! A terrorist! My father is  _ Le _ fucking  _ Papillon _ !”

“Adrien—”

“Don’t, I don’t want to hear it!” Adrien turns away, unable to watch her cower beneath the threat of his voice any longer, “Just leave me alone. I need to be alone right now.”

“But—”

“GO AWAY!”

He can hear her burst into tears as he stomps into the living room and he  _ hates _ it, hates the way it makes his heart clench in his chest like it’s being crushed in a vice. He tries to muster up the courage to apologize but finds there’s no use bothering; when he finally turns back her way, she’s already gone.

~

He knows he’s not supposed to be looking at the news but this news pertains to him and he’s getting sick and tired of being forced to listen to everything about _Le Papillon_ aka Gabriel Agreste aka _his_ _father_ from other people who won’t stop blathering on and on and on about it _._

_ “Good evening Paris and it’s great to have you with us on a Wednesday night. We begin tonight with that developing story on everyone’s minds, the arrest of former fashion mogul and national terrorist Gabriel Agreste and the disappearance of the other half of Paris’ dynamic duo, Chat Noir.” _

Adrien stuffs his head into his pillow and growls,  _ “According to reports around the city, the feline superhero has been missing in action since Le Papillon was taken into police custody, leading speculators to believe the worst and TVi’s local affairs correspondent Vanessa Péchalat leads us off tonight. Vanessa, good evening.” _

_ “Good evening Nadja. After what has been an unprecedented break in the case of Gabriel Agreste, Ladybug has been running herself ragged in an attempt to manage the public and political chaos wrecking havoc across all twenty arrondissements. Serving as the main witness for the trial and sole protector of the city against crime, Ladybug has been in the public eye more than ever and it’s beginning to show, judging by the reaction she had Gabriel Agreste’s bail hearing, which was thankfully denied by the courts. Furthermore, the police haven't yet released the name of the man found dead on the top of the Eiffel Tower. Is it possible this unnamed man is Chat Noir? And if not, just how long can Ladybug keep this up without Chat Noir by her side?” _

Adrien watches the shaky iPhone footage of Ladybug struggling to contain herself when the courts called upon her, her face twisting into a snarl,  _ “Vanessa, besides the obvious speculations, is there any other word on the cause of Chat Noir’s disappearance?” _

_ “Nadja, if the unnamed murder victim isn’t Chat Noir, than we’re not really sure what has caused the superhero to up and disappear from the public eye. Ladybug has been uncharacteristically quiet, not speaking to reporters or answering questions regarding Chat Noir’s whereabouts. Even the nationally acclaimed LadyBlog and the people behind it haven’t been able to hash out the details. The city of Paris is sitting on the edge of a knife in the wake of Gabriel Agreste’s trial but tonight, everyone is just happy that our citizens are safe.” _

_ “Vanessa Péchalat leading us off tonight, thank you.” _

Adrien takes his pillow and chucks it across the master bedroom as hard as he can, leaping up to his feet. He’s long worn a path in the floor with his pacing, so irritated and utterly bored and alone.

He grabs the pillow from the floor and throws it again.

He’s going to rip a hole in the wall, he’s going to smash a window with his bare knuckles, he’s going to use pure force of will to destroy something with or without Plagg’s help. He’s so  _ sick _ of feeling inept and hopeless and pathetic and incompetent and—

_ “Auuugghh!” _

He’d scream his lungs out if that’s what it takes. Besides the sympathetic glances and the soft words, no one seems to have noticed that he’s not exactly firing at all cylinders. Is he that good of an actor? Can nobody see that he’s going insane? That he can’t trust what comes out of his mouth, that he can’t string a sentence together without getting angry or sad or confused, that he can’t focus on anything because his brain has all but melted out his freaking ears?!

His pillow gets a mouthful of screams.

Hardly anyone at school has noticed. Sure, Nino has mentioned that he still looks a little off, but you know,  _ whatever _ , because that’s just what happens when your father is a terrorist. And Alya, always too busy with her nose stuck to the screen of her mobile, too busy updating her LadyBlog to even care that Adrien feels like he’s being ripped apart inside. His other classmates are always trying to help and he supposes that it’s nice that they’re making an effort but it’s not  _ enough _ .

It seems like Marinette is the only person who seems to recognise that he’s a spiralling mess of despair and even she can’t seem to spare much time for him lately, too busy fending off the press and keeping the city safe from criminals and finding the Butterfly Miraculous hidden somewhere in the Agreste mansion all at the same time, not to mention studying for the  _ Bac _ . Of course, he’d totally screamed at her Friday night and he hasn’t seen her since....

He dives face first into his bed and pounds his fists into the mattress, growling into the sheets and he exerts his pent-up fury on the furniture, kicking and thrashing until he feels sweat bead at the base of his spine. It feels  _ good _ to just lose it without a single care, impulsive and reckless and everything he could now be when he wants to. There’s no need to act, no need to pretend to be a poster boy, repressed and moulded into the picture-perfect specimen of an Agreste that he’s been made out to be. He doesn’t want to be in this stupid city anymore, he doesn’t want to keep living in this stupid situation when he can just turn his back on the world with a whisk of his hand and be free!

Rage turns into grief and he melts into the creases of his mattress, exhausted and utterly spent. It’s after midnight and he can’t sleep, worn out and ultimately shattered. He feels like he’s fading, that he’s turning transparent; he already feels like he’s invisible with the way that no one seems to be able to see what’s going on in his head behind the Adrien shaped shield he’s erected around himself. He feels like he’s in one of those stupid Mollière plays they have to read in school, except Mollière writes toilet jokes and Adrien’s stuck in a tragedy.

He rolls onto his back and stares blankly at his ceiling.  _ Putain _ , at this rate, he’ll start quoting Voltaire.

Adrien stares at the clock at his bedside and glares reproachfully at Plagg, sleeping soundly in the pile of socks he’s fashioned into a bed. The kwarmi went and hid his Miraculous after his post coital meltdown and Adrien doesn’t know whether he wants to strangle or smack him. He knows some of the things he was saying after Marinette left were a little...dramatic now that he thinks about it. He doesn’t actually want to use  _ Cataclymse _ on his father, not that the idea hadn’t already crossed his thoughts before...

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Adrien knows he’s being unreasonable. He knows Plagg is doing what’s best for him and he knows Marinette comes to see him every time she can spare a moment. He knows he should listen to this little reasonable voice in the back of his head, the one that’s barely treading water to stay afloat amid all the other angry voices but he’s so  _ done _ right now and he doesn’t care. He feels betrayed. He feels deceived by his own body. He feels  _ furious _ .

The rage is back and Adrien flings himself off his bed again, tearing around his room and flinging every soft thing within reach. It’s nighttime after all and if he makes too much noise, someone will surely come and knock on his hotel door.

He’d show them, he thinks, sneering at his reflection in the glass of the sliding balcony doors. His face is twisted in anger and it suits him. He’s the harbinger of destruction and chaos after all, not that he wants to be anymore. That nagging voice is telling him not to go down this path again but it’s a cacophony in there, thoughts and voices and images spinning like a whirlpool in his mind. And that’s what it feels like, spinning helplessly in a whirlpool until he drowns in his own brain because he’s ragged and defeated and sad and alone.

He’s suddenly tired, overwhelmingly so, and it hits him like a tidal wave. He turns and crawls back into bed, his bones soggy and drained and promptly falls asleep.

Plagg reaches up and turns off the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's always darkest before dawn. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and thank you for sticking with me. Your kind words are what brought me back to Safeword.


	6. Week Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I want to thank you all for the amazingly kind and generous words you left me on the previous chapter. It made my heart soar to know that you're still with me and enjoying this story. Thank you so much!
> 
> This is the second half of the previous chapter. It's sad and messy, but it's always darkest before dawn.

_[Week 4]_  
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]  
[Progress: Unknown]_

Adrien stomps into his homeroom classroom Monday morning and slams his bag on the desk with a resounding thud, enjoying the sound it makes. Plagg tugs on his hair beneath his hat in warning but Adrien doesn’t pay him any heed; if he’s going to be in a bad mood, he’d prefer if everyone around him was too.

“Hey bro,” Nino greets him, carefully ignoring the proverbial storm brewing over his best friend’s head. The look Adrien gives him is nothing short of spiteful and Nino glances over his shoulder at Alya with a warning look, “How’s the studying going?”

Adrien just grunts and collapses into his seat, propping his head up with his palm. Alya grimaces and cautiously walks around to the set of seats behind him, “Sounds like you had a rough morning.”

“Is it that obvious?” Adrien snaps, tapping his pen against the wooden desk, “I’m so ready for this to be over with.”

“You and me both dude,” Nino sits down beside him, carefully keeping his distance, “Do you want some help studying?”

Adrien’s tapping begins increasing in tempo, “Not really.”

“Oh, okay,” Nino replies and tries not to let the worry seep into his voice. He scooches away and turns around to face his girlfriend who shares his blatant look of concern, “Hey Alya, do you want to study together?”

“Sure,” Alya responds, keeping one eye on Adrien’s hunched form, “Maybe Marinette will want to come too.”

“Definitely, I know how much she’s fallen behind,” Nino takes his phone out of his pocket, “She’s running late again.”

“She texted me this morning and told me that she’s had a rough couple nights,” Alya glances Adrien’s way, “Do you know why that might be Adrien?”

He turns and glowers over his shoulder, “As if you don’t already know.”

Alya blinks, “What?”

“You don’t have to pretend for my sake,” he mutters, turning his head back around towards the desk, “We had a fight.”

“You and Marinette had a fight?” Alya sounds just as shocked as Nino feels, “Are you guys okay?”

Adrien slinks back into his self imposed silence and Alya quickly texts Marinette for confirmation, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Nino nods understandingly, “I get it dude. Like I said, if you want to study sesh with just me, we can do that. I could use some help in physics and maths anyway since you’re like, the smartest guy I know so...yeah. Do you want to meet up tonight?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s better than no!” Nino claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder and is entirely unprepared for the way Adrien spins around and shoves him off, barring his teeth.

“Whoa! What the hell Adrien?” Alya’s eyebrows rise past her hairline as she jumps up and intervenes, “Nino’s just trying to help you out. What’s your deal?”

Adrien squares his shoulders, revulsion rising in his chest, “I don’t need your help.”

“You sure about that bud?” Nino peeks over Alya’s shoulder, “We just want to help you study for the _Bac_.”

“So what? It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Uh…newsflash Adrien, it does,” Alya snaps back, “You’re not going to be able to go to university or get a job without it.”

“And?” Adrien flexes his fists, “Like anyone would hire me. I don’t know if you’ve looked at the news lately, but I’m the son of a terrorist.”

Nino’s eyes soften, “Dude, we’re just trying to help you out. We know it’s been hard on you and we’re here for you but…you can’t just treat us like garbage.”

“That’s right,” Alya straightens, tipping her chin, “We’re your best friends. Food, support, help with your homework? We’re there. But not if you’re going to be like this.”

Adrien feels the swell of shame begin to burn beneath the pride in his chest as Alya hauls her boyfriend to his feet and exits the classroom, leaving him behind.

~

Adrien is simmering in the library, his eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again. He’s mad and ashamed and every emotion in between, furious at both his friends and himself for letting things get this out of control so quickly. How did it get so bad? He squeezes his eyes closed against the strain of emotions welling up behind his eyes as he asks the question repeatedly, so it hardly even registers when a little ball of red energy phases through the screen of his iPad and hovers before his eyes.

“Adrien?”

He blinks and sighs, leaning back to acknowledge the god of creation wringing her paws before him, “Does Marinette know you’re here?”

Tikki’s hover falters ever so slightly, her bright blue eyes shining with concern, “Kind of?”

“Oh,” Adrien swallows uncomfortably, “Is she here?”

“Not at the moment,” Tikki averts her stare as Adrien sets his iPad down on the desk, “But Plagg is with her just in case something happens.”

“Like what? There aren’t anymore akuma to fight,” Adrien crosses his arms across his chest and slumps back against the backrest.

“That’s true but...I wanted to ask you a question in private and I wanted to make sure Marinette was safe too.”

Adrien heaves another sigh, “What did you want to ask?”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Tikki struggles to keep her composure and floats back up towards him, “Adrien…”

“I’m not kidding,” Adrien assures her but his voice lacks conviction, “I’m fine.”

“Please Adrien,” Tikki flutters ever closer, “Plagg and I have always stood by the sides of our wielders throughout the toughest of times. Let us be there for you too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Anything you tell me will stay between us. I won’t tell Plagg or Marinette.”

Adrien’s facial expression suddenly changes, his eyes dulling in a way Tikki has never quite seen them do. It strikes her then, how much she’s taken his resilience for granted now that he’s reached his breaking point.

“You promise?”

“Kwarmi’s honour.”

Adrien slumps even further, his posture folding in on itself, “I can’t sleep properly at night.”

Tikki lands on his outstretched hand as he continues, “And I get angry all the time and sad, or I feel nothing at all. Sometimes it feels like I’m a prisoner in my own body. It’s like, I know that I can do things but I…I just can’t do it. I’ve got to spend all day pretending like I’m fine when I feel like I’m dying on the inside and…”

“Adrien, you’re not—”

Adrien waves dismissively with his other hand, “No, not like that. It’s like…it’s like nothing works like it used to. I can’t think as quickly or move as quickly or…I’m worried it won’t go away.”

“It’s only been a few weeks Adrien. You’ll start to feel better soon.”

“It’s not just that,” Adrien interrupts, running his fingers through his hair, “It’s like I can barely take care of myself!”

“You’re...well, maybe you could use a little help handling things,” Tikki admits, shrugging her tiny shoulders, “There must be someone you can go to see.”

“That’s the problem!” Adrien tugs at his bangs and falls forward, shoulders and arms slumping over the desk, “If Maman was around…”

Tikki’s heart drops like a stone in her chest.

“She always knew when something was wrong. She taught me…she used to…” Adrien rests his head against the cushion of his arms and his breath comes out as a shudder, “She taught me to ask for help when I was scared but…my father, he…he always saw it as a weakness. He’d always tell her that she was being too soft on me, that I needed to build a thicker skin if I was ever going to survive and…and he wasn’t wrong.”

“But it still feels like I’m pretending all the time, like I’ve got to be something I’m not,” he shifts his head up so that his chin rests on his crossed forearms, “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not Adrien, not like I used to be. I don’t think like him, I don’t feel like him and  at the rate I’m going, I don’t know if I can ever be Chat Noir again either.”

Tikki gasps from behind her paws, “What do you mean, you don’t know if you can—”

“Well, I can’t be Ladybug’s partner if I can’t even get out of bed in the mornings?” Adrien interrupts, his voice miserable, “Or control my temper. Have you seen what _cataclysme_ can do? What if I lose control again, like I did with Nino today? I’m supposed to be her backup, her shield. How can I do that when I can’t even think properly? I...I can’t even manage things on my own! She needs someone who can take care of her and protect her, who can be her equal. I can’t do that anymore. I’m...I’m broken.”

“Adrien, that’s not true. You were chosen for this, this is what you were meant for.”

“The old Adrien was chosen for this. I can’t...I’m not…”

“Yes you can,” Tikki’s eyes well up with tears, “You just need time and help from the people that support you!”’

“And what happens when I push those people away too? Whose fault will it be then?”

Adrien pushes himself up from his seat and shoves his belongings into his bag, his hair covering his eyes, “I don’t know where Plagg hid that ring but…give it to someone else. Someone who deserves it.”

Adrien slips out of his chair and slams it against the desk and it’s only then that Adrien feels the sting of hot tears streaming down his cheeks, dripping down his chin and sliding along the line of his jaw. They fall onto the concrete floor indecipherably and he tries to breath inwardly but his diaphragm is shaking with the weight of his words crushing his chest, unrelenting against his lungs. He pinches his eyes closed and tries to get a hold of himself, tries to keep the tears from slipping passed his eyelids, tries to breathe.

“Adrien…”

He tries to focus on the kwarmi before him through the curtains of unshed tears but it’s no use, “I’m sorry.”

~

There’s a palpable sense of sullen tension in the air when he walks into school the next day and he chooses to keep to himself, ashamed by his actions. He doesn’t feel like talking to anyone and no one seems to want to talk to him and he takes the silence for granted; he actually pays attention in class today and counts that as a small victory.

Anything positive is a small victory these days.

He gets a text from Marinette later on in the afternoon asking him to meet with her in the courtyard after school and he briefly considers ignoring it. He’d rather just go to bed than listen to what she’ll have to say, which will probably only make him feel worse. He doesn’t really feel like anything right now and...it’s kind of nice? Nice in a reprieve sort of way since he feels neither angry or sad, which is better than the emotional upheaval of yesterday. The blankness is...he doesn’t really know. Good? Bad?

Does it matter?

He finds her fiddling with the charm on her wrist in one of the more secluded alcoves beneath the shade of an oak tree and he approaches her warily, watching her closely. She turns to face him once he’s within the shadow of the tree and quickly turns away again, her fingers shaking perceptibly from where he’s paused in front of her.

“You wanted to talk?”

His voice sounds painfully monotonous in his ears and Marinette takes a steadying breath before turning to pin him beneath her gaze, “I do. I have some things that I would like to say.”

“First, I want to apologise,” Marinette begins, hesitating before ultimately shoving her hands in her pockets, “You were right. I have no idea what you’re going through and it was presumptuous of me to think that I would be able to help you. I’m trying to be as supportive as I can and I know that it’s...it’s not working. I want you to know that I’m not giving up on you, but I just don’t know how to help.”

“I also want the let you know that I still love you even though we had a fight. Couples fight all the time and...sometimes fighting can be healthy. It’s better than bottling up your feelings and I want you to let me know when something is bugging you again before it gets so bad that you feel like screaming. It doesn’t feel good to be screamed at.”

“Lastly, I’m going to be really busy over the next two weeks and I might not be able to visit as much as I would like to but my door is always open. My parents would love to have you over for dinner and I know Nino’s would too. Please at least consider the invitation...you can’t live off of popcorn and apples forever.”

“Okay.”

Marinette’s lips try and curl into a smile but it comes out all wrong, her face twisted in an awkward grimace. She gives him a once over and nods as if she’d just mentally affirmed something before taking another shaky breath, “Is there anything you would like to say?”

Adrien doesn’t know what to ask so he says the first pleasantry that comes to mind, “How are you?”

“I’m just stressed out,” she replies, running her fingers against her scalp with an absent stare, her eyes blown wide, “Everything is happening all at once and they need me at the police station every other day and Master Fu has me breaking into the mansion every evening to try and find the butterfly Miraculous because Nooroo is starting to fade away and…”

Marinette slumps against the trunk of the tree and lets gravity have its way with her, “I never imagined it would be this difficult to do this all by myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Adrien says automatically, waiting for the surge of emotion that never comes, “What can I do?”

“Besides the obvious?” Marinette’s voice is bordering on hysterics, her pitch rising as she pulls at her pigtails, “I need my partner back.”

“I can’t…I can’t do that right now,” Adrien stares blankly down at his girlfriend and feels that vague sensation of being separated from his own body. Before, he’d be on his knees at her side and comforting her. Before, he’d be pulling her into his arms and holding her close until she calmed down. Before, he’d be able to help her shoulder the burden and hold her hand through the hard times, her partner through thick and thin.

But that was before.

“Do you want me to get Alya?” he asks, his voice sounding faraway in his ears.

Marinette glances upwards and Adrien has never seen her look quite so lost, “I…I guess so.”

Nodding, Adrien does the only thing he can and walks away.

~

He sits on his bed until time has no meaning and stares at the ornate wallpaper covering the walls opposite of him, red and garish and as flat as he feels. Is this normal to feel this defeated? To feel this…nothing?

Eventually he starts to get cold and curls in on himself, his mobile and hunger long forgotten. How was he supposed to get rid of this hollow sensation in his chest? Did he even want to? Was this his new normal, his new lease on life? Was this how people always felt after something bad happened? He doesn’t remember feeling this way when his mother disappeared but that’s probably because Nathalie had kept him too busy to really think about it all that much and grieve. And that’s what this was right? Grief? This all-consuming feeling of numbness and loss that’s clawing at his heart and lungs until he’s practically delirious with it?

He knows he should apologise to Marinette. He knows he should apologise to everyone actually, for the way he’d been treating them. He’s been callous, snippy, mean, an embodiment of his father. The realisation hurts more than anything, the knowledge that he’d looked at his friends the same way his father had looked at him, with spiteful disinterest veiled by selfish needs. Why did he do it? Why did he act this way when he’d been so different before? Content, happy even?

He glances over towards the desk in the corner, his mind and body completely hollow. He feels horrible and heavy as he pushes himself off the bed and lurches towards the business card that’s been burning a hole in his thoughts for weeks now, but he needs to do something and it’s now or never. He’s got to get out of here, out of his thoughts, out of his spiralling feelings before he self destructs. He can see it now, the way he feels like he’s falling closer to the sun, helpless to being consumed...his father had never dealt with his grief properly and look at what he’s become?

He couldn’t become his father…

Could he?

He snatches the business card from the wooden surface of the desk and calls it before he can stop himself.

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Ri—_

_“Docteur Renée’s office, how can I help you?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Next chapter we get to see Docteur Renée talk some sense into our silly, sad sunshine boy. The story will get much more positive from here as we near the end of the first arc, I promise!
> 
> 1\. I'm looking for a beta reader to go through **Masquerade** and **if i had a wish (i'd wish for more of this)** for me and find any spelling issues. If this is something that you would like to do to help me out, I would really appreciate it! Just send me a message through tumblr at ao3bronte.
> 
> 2\. I'm also looking for an artist who would like to do a piece for me. I don't often ask specific artists outright as I prefer to find people who are familiar with my work. If this is something that piques your interest, message me on tumblr at ao3bronte!
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	7. Week Four (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Docteur Renée is back! And unlike the Pythia from **if i had a wish (i'd wish for more of this)** , she's not nearly as nefarious.
> 
> ...or is she?

_[Week 4]_  
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_  
_[Appearance: Unkempt]_  
_[Posture: Uneasy]_  
_[Attitude: Distressed]_  
_[Mood: Fearful]_

Docteur Renée’s office isn't a long walk from _La Grande Paris_ once Adrien actually rolls out of bed and looks the address up. Really, it's only a few blocks away and with the paparazzi waiting on the steps of his lycée for a chance to snap a picture of him, Adrien finds it surprisingly easy to just skip his classes and sneak out the hotel’s door.

The slouchy hat and the ripped jeans do wonders as a disguise as he walks quickly through the southbound streets of the 1ère arrondissement before heading east, keeping his head low so as to not attract any unwanted attention. Luckily, no one recognises him and no one should; he looks just like any other hipster twenty-something roaming around, photographing street graffiti and sipping overpriced lattés on quaint café corners. The anonymity feels astounding and it's enough to jump start his heart in his chest, the rush of emotions from the mere act of walking unchaperoned making his blood sing in his veins. It’s an amazing feeling, if temporary, which is why he really needs to walk through the front doors of this building and climb four flights of stairs to find the therapist who can hopefully help him out of this mess for good.

“It’s a beautiful day at Docteur Renée’s office!”

The cheery woman from his phone call is practically buzzing as he pushes open the heavy walnut door, entering the brightly lit waiting room as quietly and as covertly as he can. She's poking her head out from behind her cubicle with the kind of smile that inspires birds to sing and he can't help but pick up on her seemingly unwavering enthusiasm as he walks up to the live edge wood counter and murmurs his name.

“Welcome! It's so lovely to see you!” Mme. Poupin rests her palm over top of his hand and squeezes it gently, “Docteur Renée is already in her office waiting for you. She came in early just so she could start her assessment with you.”

“I didn't mean to bother her,” Adrien immediately shrinks back, his stomach clenching at the thought of someone inconveniencing themselves on his behalf.

Mme. Poupin giggles, her cherubic features brightening in the blazing summer sunlight streaming in through the windows, “Nonsense! Every person is worth listening to, no matter how their story begins. Now, go along _mon beau_ , she's just inside those doors on the right.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his ears suddenly burning with embarrassment. There’s no one else in the waiting room but he still feels the weight of invisible eyes pushing down on his shoulders regardless as he follows Mme. Poupin’s directions. He pauses in front of a set of barn doors and takes a deep breath before pushing them aside on their tracks, revealing the room hiding within.

Adrien is immediately drawn into the height of the space, the soaring 6 metre ceilings crowned with ornate mouldings against the plaster of _La Belle Époque_ era room. A small chandelier hangs from the baroque medallion on the ceiling, its diffused light illuminating the cherrywood desk at the end of the room and the paintings hanging on the walls of colourful landscapes and oceans in pastel shades of blues. His eyes sweep along the picture windows on the side facing the boulevard below, the aged bricks intermittently exposed beneath the artfully laid plaster like the peel of an orange, revealing the bones and beauty of the building underneath. Wistful, Adrien appreciates the metaphor and glances over at the woman sitting patiently in a chair across from the chaise at the front and blinks for a moment, following her upturned palm with his eyes until he finally gets the hint. He nods nervously at her silent gesture to sit and finally collapses in a heap on the far side of the chaise, curling into a ball.

“Hi.”

“Hello again,” Docteur Renée gently toes off her ballet flats and pulls her legs into the lotus position, “It’s been a long few weeks hasn’t it?”

Adrien wraps his arms around his legs and juts his chin out onto his knees, “That’s putting it lightly.”

“What’s changed?”

The blond stares blankly at a spot on the hardwood flooring, “I think something is wrong with me.”

“How so?”

“I had a fight with my girlfriend,” he begins, his socked toes wriggling against the fabric of the divan, “I yelled at my friends. I told my teachers that I didn’t care if I failed the _Bac_ and when my girlfriend asked me for help I just...”

“...are you feeling overwhelmed?”

“I don’t know? I mean, I thought I was managing...kind of,” Adrien sighs, “Somedays are better than other days and...it’s easier when my friends are around so I don’t know why I snapped at them. They’ve been so kind to me and I just...I treated them like crap.”

Docteur Renée watches him closely as he begins to fidget, “Do you feel like apologizing?”

“Obviously,” Adrien’s bangs shift over his eyes, “And I will but...I don’t want to keep snapping at them.”

“Can you remember what made you snap in the first place?”

Adrien’s eyes shift to a different spot on the knotty hardwood planks, “Yeah. My girlfriend Marinette, she called me by a nickname and...it reminded me of my father.”

Docteur Renée takes a few moments to gather her thoughts, “How did she respond?”

“She was shocked I guess,” Adrien replies, “She's been calling me that for years.”

“And it's bothered you all this time?”

“I...no. I used to love it, but now…”

“Everything seems to cut a little too close to the bone these days, doesn't it?”

Adrien appears pensive, “Pretty much. My father, he’s always controlled everything in my life so when I realised he even controlled the things that I thought were...that I thought belonged to me...”

“The question of control is a big, if often unspoken one,” Docteur Renée leans against her backrest, “Our parents exert a certain amount of power over us always, but recognising when it goes too far can be tough.”

“I was always scared to question him about it,” Adrien mirrors her movements instinctively, “And knowing the truth about him makes it even worse.”

“Well, it’s not everyday we learn our mother or father is a criminal but it happens more often than you’d think. Thousands of children wake up every morning to parents who have bent the law to support their families.”

“It's not the same.”

“Isn't it? Gabriel Agreste didn't just decide one morning to terrorize the people of Paris.”

“No, but he chose to. He made a choice to hurt people, and for what?”

Docteur Renée presses her lips together, “You haven't been watching the news have you?”

He shakes his head, “I've been avoiding it.”

“Would you like me to tell you what he said at the hearing?”

“What hearing?”

“Yesterday's,” Docteur Renée presses her hands against her knees and leans forwards, “He was allowed to speak only briefly, but I think his words may have meaning to you.”

Adrien doesn't react for several moments, “What did he say?”

“He said: I need to get her back.”

“I need to get her back?” Adrien’s brows pinch together, forming a crease, “He must be talking about my mother.”

“Émilie Agreste?”

Adrien nods, “She disappeared years ago when they were on a trip to Tibet. He's never been the same since she left...or disappeared or died or whatever. He never explained what happened.”

“He never explained…” Docteur Renée trails off, momentarily taken aback. Most of Paris assumed that there was more to the well publicised story of Émilie’s disappearance than met the eye but Rachelle had never once thought that Gabriel’s own son would have been just as in the dark about it as the rest of the world, “Why were they in Tibet?”

“On vacation I guess,” he shrugs, “They told me they were going on a trip a few days before they left so I wouldn't get upset.”

“So you _wouldn't_ get upset?”

“Sounds stupid right?” Adrien exhales sharply through his nose, “I was even more upset because they _didn't_ tell me. And Maman was so busy with work at the film studio that I didn't even get to see her until she was leaving for the airport.”

“Was that the last time you saw her?”

“We FaceTimed every day. She sung me Happy Birthday when they landed and she showed me some of the souvenirs she bought me over the trip and then…”

Adrien rubs at his eyes, “I didn't even learn about it from my father or Nathalie. She knew obviously, but she wasn't allowed to tell me. I had photo shoots booked everyday they were gone and my father didn't want the news affecting the pictures, but I did find out eventually. It was on the news.”

“I’m sorry,” Docteur Renée blinks, leaning backwards again, “That must have been difficult for you.”

“Nathalie always kept me too busy to really process it,” Adrien replies, his eyes still glued to the floor, “But it still bothers me, and I guess I’ll never know what happened.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Docteur Renée shifts in her seat, “You’ll be called in to testify several times throughout the trial. Perhaps there you’ll find the answers you seek?”

“Not likely,” Adrien’s lips turn up into a snarl, “He’s always the one in control.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes! He’ll find a way to spin it around. He always does.”

“How so?”

“He’s just…” Adrien shakes his head and uncurls his body, slouching heavily against the backrest of the divan, “No one can say no to him. You can try but he just...he always finds a way to make you feel stupid about yourself, like this one time where there was an akuma attack and I told him to get to a safe place and he...he just makes this comment about my temper! Like, all I was trying to do was make sure he was safe and instead he calls me out on my attitude?”

Adrien throws his hands up into the air in disdain, “He’s always telling me how to act and how to dress and he’s always...he’s always controlling everything I do. He criticises me constantly, he threatens me when all I want to do is hang out with my friends, he forbids me from the leaving the house and...and arguing with him is impossible because he just deflects and tells me to stop being emotional like Maman and that I’m embarrassing the brand! And then he’ll randomly just come up and hug me! And I’m just like...I don’t know how to deal with it? You know, he used to hug me all the time when I was little and then he just...stopped. It’s like I hit a certain age and all the sudden…”

“I’m just...I’m just so frustrated,” Adrien tugs at his bangs for a moment before letting his arms flop to his side, “How could he hide this all from me? How could I not have seen what was going on? He was akumatising people for years in my house and I just...how did I not know? He’s never around for dinner and he rarely left his office and honestly, I can’t think of the last time he even left the house now that I think of it and it’s all because he was...he was turning people into monsters! Monsters who could kill people! How many times did a building collapse or a fire start or the Eiffel Tower come crashing down? An akuma flooded Paris for god’s sake! How many people did he hurt before Ladybug’s cure brought them back?!”

“And he’s my father! _My father!_ I’m related to him! And he went crazy because why? Because his wife disappeared? Well guess what, my _mother_ disappeared too and I didn’t go on a terrorism spree. I didn’t hurt anyone, or kill anyone, or do anything to anybody. I just dealt with it like a normal person, just like everybody else but no, my father had to go and do this to Paris! To me! Look what he did to me!” Adrien cries, his body coiled so tightly that he’s afraid he might burst, “Now I have to live the rest of my life as the son of a terrorist! It’ll never go away! ‘Oh, let’s look at this résumé. Adrien Agreste? Oh, isn’t that the son of _Le Papillon_ , the guy who single handedly terrorised Paris for years? Guess we can’t hire him!’”

Docteur Renée raises a hand to interject but Adrien is so absorbed in his rant that he can hardly see, “I just don’t get it! I don’t get why he’d just throw his entire life away, and for what? How the hell was he going to bring Maman back? For all I know, she probably found out he was evil and left him when she had a chance!”

Adrien crosses his arms tightly over his chest and stews for a moment, giving Docteur Renée the chance she needs to intervene, “Have you ever spoken to your father about how you feel?”

Adrien gives her a hard look, “Obviously not. He punishes me if I put so much as a toe out of line. Can you imagine if I actually said something to him about it? He'd keep me at home from school and lock me in my room for a week.”

Docteur Renée visibly reels backwards, “He would keep you home from school?”

“Yeah. My father hated it when I left the house. He kept me from going to school until 3ème but Nathalie and I eventually managed to convince him to let me go. Before that, I was homeschooled.”

“So you never left the house before then?”

“Not unless it was a photoshoot.”

“You never...went for a walk to the park? Or to the fountains?”

Adrien shakes his head, “Father wouldn’t allow it. The only travelling I was ever allowed to do was through modelling. I’ve been all over the world but only with the brand.”

“I...wow,” Docteur Renée takes a deep breath and releases it, “I’m starting to get a sense that your father wasn’t just abusing Paris on a daily basis.”

“Nino’s says something like that before,” Adrien replies, looking nonplussed, “But Father never actually hit me or anything. He just...he just always…”

“...always what?”

“It felt like he was always trying to pull me apart, you know? Like I was one of those cashmere sweaters he would get sent from Italy, the really nice ones that were woven by hand. Every time he spoke to me, he'd pull on a new thread until it felt like I was unravelling. ‘Adrien, you’re not good enough at piano. Adrien, you’re not good enough at fencing. Adrien, you’re too broad for the designer jackets I make for you and you’re too tall for the sample sizes.’ Eventually it felt like I was falling apart, and he did that with everyone, _everyone_. He systematically picks apart the people around him, every business partner, every employee...I think he just likes to watch, you know? I think he likes to watch people come apart at the seams.”

Adrien sighs, “I mean, it's sick to think this way about him, because there was a time when I loved him. But...everytime I think of him now I just...I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate what he’s done to me...and yet a part of me still loves him? It feels wrong.”

“He’s family,” Docteur Renée replies simply, “It’s not uncommon to feel conflicted when it comes to our flesh and blood.”

“Even when that flesh and blood is a cold blooded killer?”

“Yes,” Docteur Renée takes an even breath, “The man you knew didn’t start off as a murderer Adrien. He started out as your father, a man who, according to you, was a good person when your mother was around.”

“I know, I know…” Adrien exhales and sinks further into the couch, “Still.”

“He's certainly not redeemable right now and I'm not asking you to forgive him,” Docteur Renée presses, sensing Adrien’s darkening train of thought, “but the only way you're going to get through this is to talk about it.”

“Is that why people go to therapy?” Adrien asks ruefully, making eye contact with her for the very first time since he walked through her door, “To talk about their terrible fathers?”

Docteur Renée holds his gaze, “I think people come here to reinvent themselves, and I think that's why you're here too. You want to reinvent yourself, to take who you were and create something better, to amalgamate the two aspects of yourself that makes you you.”

“Amalgamate?”

“It means to bring two things together to make one,” Docteur Renée laces her finger and rests them on her thighs, “It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that the real Adrien is desperately trying to break through the cracks and shine. You have hopes, aspirations, dreams outside of what your father forced upon you and I know that you can achieve them. It's going to be a long road from here on out, but that doesn't mean it has to be a dark one.”

Adrien blinks several times and rubs self consciously at the pale band of bare skin across his ring finger, “Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Docteur Renée looks suddenly relieved, her shoulders relaxing against her chair, “But before we go any further, I have to ask you a question.”

“Yes?”

Docteur Renée smiles, “How do you feel about cats?”

~

Two hours later, Adrien emerges onto the brightly lit boulevards of Paris covered head to toe in cat hair. Docteur Renée had introduced him to Félix and explained that she often brought him in with her as her patients loved seeing the grey and white feline walking around and curling up in the summer sun. He was usually pretty aloof, so both Adrien and Docteur Renée had been surprised when Félix had hopped right up onto Adrien’s lap and curled into a ball, his huge, intensely blue eyes lidded in pleasure as he purred.

Turning west, Adrien feels lighter than he has in weeks and he can feel his shoulders straighten, his cheeks warming in the light. He can’t actually remember the last time he’d shared so much of himself with anyone and it felt amazingly cathartic to just blather and gush and share things he could never share with someone before without fear of it getting back to his father. She listened to him and asked questions and watched him while he spoke, which wasn’t something that he had much experience with as Adrien. It felt almost daunting even, to be understood, to be the subject of someone’s singular focus for so long.

When he was with Marinette, he felt like she cared of course, but there was always something else happening too. There were always akuma to fight and villains to defeat and scratches to itch; there was only ever that one time in her bedroom where they had been truly alone and entirely absorbed in each other but even then, the knowledge that they had to go to school the next day stopped them from completely letting go. And honestly, he could never truly tell her everything, every emotion and every thought that ran through his head on any given day. She had her own stresses, her own issues and Docteur Renée had helped Adrien remember that when they’d spoken at length today.

He can feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably as he pauses underneath an awning and he immediately hides his face, wary of his surroundings. Three years with a Miraculous as a constant companion has rubbed off on him more than he cares to admit, especially since he hadn't touched the band of metal in weeks, but Plagg’s innate ability to sense things continues to thrum through his veins. It sings to him even now and Adrien scans the crowds of people carefully before spotting the source of his suspicions sitting on the eaves of a rooftop, her red suit glinting brightly in the sun.

Adrien resumes his trek along the boulevard before taking a sharp right and slipping into an alleyway, flinging himself up onto the bottommost rung of a fire escape. He scales it easily even without his powers and only pauses once he hits the third story platform to catch his breath.

“Ladybug.”

“Adrien.”

He follows the lines of her body as she lowers herself onto the wrought iron ledge and he feels his heart flutter in his chest as she approaches him.

“Shouldn't you be in class?” Adrien asks, holding himself in place despite the urge to reach out.

“Shouldn't you?” she crosses her arms over her chest and juts her hip to the side, raising her brows, “I've never known you to willingly skip school.”

Adrien considers her body language for a moment and thinks of what Docteur Renée had said about being honest with his feelings, “I had a really good reason.”

“And what's that?”

“I’m…,” it slips off his tongue a lot easier than he thought it would, “I'm seeing a therapist.”

Ladybug’s expression falters as his words sink in, “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Is it...did it help?”

“I think so.”

“Well that’s good,” Ladybug posture begins to soften, tempered by the weight of his words, “I'm glad you were able to talk to someone.”

“Thanks,” he scrubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I've been a real dick lately and I...I think it's going to help with that.”

A long pause stretches out between them, “Well, I haven't exactly been the greatest friend either.”

Adrien looks up, “Marinette, you've been nothing but great to me, even though I didn't deserve it.”

“But...” Ladybug trails off and turns away, “I could have done better. No, I _should_ have done better but I've been so wrapped up in studying for the _Bac_ and my apprenticeship and the investigation and trying to find Nooroo and—”

“Marinette.”

“I let you down when you needed me,” Ladybug sways emphatically, “You've been trying to shoulder this all on your own and I'm your partner! I should have been helping you!”

_“Marinette.”_

“What?!”

“Can I just…” Adrien raises his hands to try and placate her rant, “Can I just share something that Docteur Renée said to me today?”

Ladybug tips her head to the side, “Is that the one from the—"

“Yeah,” Adrien swallows uncomfortably, unwilling to relive that particular day anymore than he has to, “Anyway, she said that we have to stop trying to be everything to everyone all the time because we won't be able to spend time on the people who mean the most to us and...Marinette, you don’t need to feel guilty. You've got a lot on your plate too.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” Adrien finally gives in and steps closer, “All I need from you is for you to be yourself.”

“A lot good that's been doing,” she grumbles, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“It’s doing more good than you know,” he murmurs, standing within arms length of her, “Your visits make me happy, even if they're only once or twice a week.”

Ladybug’s posture crumbles in on itself as she closes the space between them and wraps her arms around his waist, “I'm sorry.”

He closes his eyes and nuzzles into her hair, his arms circling her shoulders, “For what?”

“For all of this,” she replies, her voice muffled in his chest, “For your father. For arguing with you and letting you down. For not being there when you needed me.”

Adrien knows she won't let go of the blame just yet, already intimately aware of how she tends to hold onto things like a cape over her shoulders until she's ready to let it go, “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Next time I have a meltdown, slap me. The things I said to you the other night were totally uncalled for.”

“We all say some mean things sometimes,” Ladybug shrugs in his grasp, “I've got a better promise. How about we both be a little more honest with each other when there's something bugging us?”

Adrien pulls back to meet her gaze, “I like that.”

“Pinky swear?”

He nods and presses a kiss to her forehead before stepping back and presenting his pinky finger between them, “Deal.”

~

It’s Friday and so far he’s managed to book two more appointments with Docteur Renée online, sign papers for his lawyer, catch a little sun on his balcony and shower and shave all in one hour. It’s more than he’s been able to force himself to do in a while and it feels better than it ought to, all things considered. Productivity is certainly something he’s been lacking as of late.

Fresh from the shower, he sits down and revisits the page of notes he’d written down shortly after his session, the neat handwriting stark against the textured paper of the moleskin pad. It’s not much but he’s always liked writing his thoughts down more than typing them, so he starts adding his own little anecdotes about life in general as well to fill the pages, his thoughts and hopes and aspirations. Docteur Renée had encouraged him to find something to focus on even if it wasn’t directly related to studying for the _Bac_ and he’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders at the freedom of it all.

_“There are no rules,” she’d said, pointing to her own purple notebook sitting on the side table behind her, “You don’t know what will work until you try it.”_

And so he writes until his hand aches from holding the pen and he realises he’s still wrapped in nothing but a towel, his hair having long dried in the humid summer air that oozes in from the open balcony doors. He takes a peek at himself in the mirror and smirks as he rolls off of the duvet and saunters back into the bathroom, contemplating what he should do with the fluffy cloud of curls on his head.

He combs his fingers through it as Plagg darts in from beyond the bedroom with the kind of unnatural speed Adrien has come to associate with cheese, except there’s no cheese around and Plagg is hovering before his eyes, his pupils constricted into pinpricks, his mouth gaping wide.

“What’s wrong Plagg?” Adrien asks, tipping his head to the side as a sense of dread begins to curl in his gut.

“We found the Miraculous!” Plagg exclaims breathlessly, tugging frantically on his whiskers, “And it’s bad Adrien, it’s bad!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nooroo! And we need to go right now!”

“Right now? Where?”

“To Master Fu’s!” Plagg grabs onto his bearer’s finger and tugs as hard as he can, “Come on!”

Adrien doesn’t budge, “Tell me what’s going on first.”

Plagg throws his head back in exasperation, “We reunited Nooroo with his Miraculous but we need you to bring him back!”

“Wait... _we_ reunited?”

“Ugh,” Plagg presses both paws to his temples and rubs them gingerly, “Why are you being so stubborn? I put the ring back on the desk, now let’s go!”

“I thought you hid the ring so I wouldn’t use it,” Adrien folds his hands across his chest.

“That was then and this was now,” Plagg resumes his fruitless tugging on Adrien’s hand, “Just put it on!”

Adrien has never seen his kwarmi quite this panicked and it’s starting to wear down his resolve, “Is Nooroo okay?”

“No! And if I don’t get you over there right now, he’s going to get even worse!”

Adrien pinches the bridge of his nose, “Can't I just walk there?”

“Time is of the essence kid,” Plagg deflates a little and flitters nervously over to the desk, “Please?”

“Fine, but I’ve got to get dressed first,” Adrien replies flatly, stepping into his closet. He drops the towel and slips Marinette’s gifted sweatpants over his hips before emerging both barefoot and shirtless at Plagg’s increasingly frantic requests, “Alright, alright.”

Plagg hauls the heavy metal band off the table and holds it between his paws, “Come on!”

Adrien eyes the proffered ring and finally gives in, plucking it from the tiny god’s grasp and slipping it back onto his ring finger. He's missed the familiar weight of it on his hand and he hates the way that his body nearly sings with energy as Plagg’s influence begins to crackle beneath his skin again, setting his veins alight. He's never been away from the magic of a Miraculous for longer than a handful of minutes and it courses through him in the best of ways, like a song that gives him the chills.

“You did that on purpose,” Adrien grouses, his entire body shaking in the wake of what could have very well been an orgasm.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Plagg denies but his fangs are glinting in the waning sun, his green eyes wild, “Go on! What's the magic word?”

Adrien curls his fingers into a fist and feels the energy crackle through him, “Plagg, transforme-moi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to those of you still supporting this story! 
> 
> Two more chapters before the end of 'Sadrien', the first arc in this story! . The next arc will be a little more...wicked ;) I did promise those d/s themes after all. 
> 
> Thank you and leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	8. Week 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doctor ~~Bronte~~ Renée is in the house today!
> 
> Please enjoy!

_[Week 5]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Dishevelled]_   
_[Posture: Slumped]_   
_[Attitude: Somewhat Cooperative]  
[Mood: Indecisive/Worried]_

There’s something to be said about the addictive, liberating feeling of launching himself over rooftops, the adrenaline and the surge of blood in his ears as he flips beneath the open canopy of the Parisian sky. The rushing wind, the blue expanse and the grey below interchangeable, the horizon both stunningly distant and at his fingertips. The noise from the boulevards dissolves until there’s nothing to keep him company but his heartbeat, the swish of black leather and the need to go faster niggling at the back of his mind.

Time seems to dilate.

He’s across town before he knows it, digging his nails into the roof tiles as he goes sliding by. He hooks his ankles around a pole and rights himself, skidding around a satellite dish and swinging up onto a small balcony. He hops onto railings and weaves through clothes lines hung with bed sheets and linens before ultimately arriving at his destination, peering warily inside.

“Chat Noir!” Master Fu whips open the window and invites him inside, “Come quickly. Nooroo and Ladybug are waiting for you”

“What’s going on?” Chat follows the guardian through the doorway into the main room on the uppermost floor, “Plagg said something was wrong.”

“He’s wildly unstable,” Master Fu rounds the corner and Adrien follows suit, spotting Ladybug already cross legged on the bamboo floor, “It’s like he’s bouncing between time periods, like he’s masking something that’s trying to come through. This is why I called on Plagg to come and get you. To succeed, we need your powers to balance him out.”

Chat Noir nods and makes eye contact with Ladybug briefly before sitting down across from her. He hasn’t seen her since their homeroom class that morning and although they’re doing a little better, she still looks like she’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It doesn’t help that they haven't had a private moment with each other since they’d apologised a few days ago on a fire escape and Chat is positively itching to talk to her properly again.

“It’s good to see you.”

Chat jerks from his reverie and soaks her in, her flushed cheeks and bright, relieved smile. She hasn’t looked at him like this in what feels like ages and it kind of sucks the breath from his lungs a little, the yearning tug in his belly suddenly flaring to life, “Thanks.”

“I am grateful that Plagg was able to convince you to come,” Master Fu sinks to his knees on Chat’s left and places a small purple object on the ground as gently as he can, “Nooroo is fading faster than I had anticipated.”

“What happened?”

“He’s been separated from his Miraculous for nearly a month,” Ladybug replies, placing the much sought after butterfly brooch down beside the tiny creature. Chat leans forwards and watches the small violet butterfly shudder inexplicably for several moments, his light growing dimmer by the second, “Master Fu thinks that if we combine our powers, we might be able to help charge him back up a little.”

“Combine our powers?” Chat glances over to where Master Fu has been busying himself with a teapot, “How?”

“A moment,” Master Fu pours the steaming liquid onto a small cup and holds his hand over the rim, “Nooroo has always preferred jasmine tea over the other varieties. The smell should help rouse him from his sleep.”

Ladybug nods, brushing her index finger across Nooroo’s forehead, “So what do we have to do to help?”

“Hold hands and listen closely,” Master Fu insists and Chat reaches out instinctively, taking her hands into his without even having to look, “Many millennia ago, an ancient Chinese seer created the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous to represent the positivity and the negativity of the world in order to form a perfect harmony. The two of you keep the equilibrium of the world around you in balance so long as you are both active wielders, but imagine the effect of receiving a concentrated version of your combined powers in one dose? This is what we’re going to attempt to do today.”

“So we’re going to...charge his battery?”

Master Fu grins, “That is exactly what we’re going to do. Now, close your eyes and focus on your partner.”

Chat follows his orders and lets his eyelids sink closed, his mind drawn to the heat of her palms through their suits, the weight of her fingers familiar between his. He squeezes ever so slightly and she responds in kind and he picks up on the subtle rhythm, the motion forcing him to keep his thoughts from trailing.

“That’s it,” Master Fu sounds foggy in his ears, “Concentrate on that feeling.”

She rubs her thumb along the outside of his index finger and it feels weird to think about but he’s been so desperate for this little bit of friction, even if it’s just the tiniest touch. She’s always been his source of physical contact throughout these last few years and being away from her days at a time after spending all spring in her embrace has him crawling out of his skin, especially when he remembers that the last time they touched without their suits had been over a week ago before their fight.

Guilt begins to prick at the corners of his eyes and Ladybug’s grip on his hands only tightens, an electric current shooting up his arm and across his shoulders. He opens his eyes instinctively and finds her staring into his, pupils blown and lips parted as the electric current travels down his other forearm and shoots back into her waiting palm. They can’t see it but they can certainly feel it as it increases in tempo and intensity until Chat’s fairly sure they’re about to turn into human tesla coils, an inexplicable breeze coursing around them to the same tune of their power. Ladybug’s ponytails begin to float passed her shoulders and she looks just as awestruck as he feels as his own messy tresses seem to lose their grasp on gravity.

“Just a little longer,” Master Fu is safely across the room but Chat hardly pays him any mind, too enraptured by the way her irises seem to glow a brighter blue in the already well lit room, her skin flushed with the inexplicable power prickling through each others veins like a flood. He takes a deep breath and it feels like he’s inhaling static rather than air and it’s not necessarily a bad thing, not with the way it makes him want to start floating right through the ceiling. The wind is whizzing passed their ears and it feels like they’re in the eye of a lightning storm, red and black energy crackling all around them until—

“Stop!”

There’s a deafening crack of thunder overhead as Ladybug releases the pressure on his fingers and he’s suddenly rocketed back to reality, the wind and the energy ebbing until it’s disappeared altogether. He’s out of breath and so is she by the looks of it, panting and flushed as she leans forwards to scoop Nooroo into her palms, bringing him up to eye level, “Nooroo? Are you okay?”

There’s a soft groan coming from her fingers and Master Fu is at their side in an instant with his mug of jasmine tea, “Here.”

Chat can’t quite see what’s happening but by the look of relief spreading across Ladybug’s features, he knows it must be good news, “It worked!”

“Yes it did,” Master Fu replies with a grin, sliding Nooroo into his cupped hands, “I’ll take it from here. Thank you Ladybug and Chat Noir. I couldn’t have healed him without you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ladybug smiles, quickly rising to her feet, “Can I come back later to see how he’s doing? I have a few free minutes tomorrow between the _Bac_ and the press conference.”

“Of course,” Master Fu disappears into his kitchen for a moment before popping his head back out, “You’re welcome to come as well Chat Noir.”

“I’ll think about it,” Chat responds carefully, purposefully avoiding Ladybug’s fervent gaze as he straightens his back and rises from the floor. He’s not sure what’s happening, but every instinct in his body is telling him to get out of there and away from the invitation, the room suddenly closing in on him, airless and claustrophobic in the otherwise open room. His throat tightening, he nods once to Master Fu and crosses the space quickly, climbing back out the window and onto the roof into the evening light.

“Wait!”

Chat pauses on the eaves as Ladybug wraps her arms around his waist from behind and presses her cheek in between his shoulder blades, “I missed you.”

He takes a deep breath and feels her grip adjust as his diaphragm expands, “Yeah.”

“I wanted to thank you for coming to help Nooroo,” she murmurs, resting more of her weight on his back like a blanket, “I know it must have been hard for you.”

“Plagg didn’t give me much of a choice,” he grumbles back, but there’s no acid in his voice, “I’m glad he’ll be okay.”

“Me too,” Chat relaxes a little into her embrace and sits back, sinking onto his haunches from the catlike crouch he’d been in only moments before. His lips turn up slightly as her legs snake around his hips, her ankles crossing over his thighs in his lap, “How are you?”

Chat mulls over what to say for a long moment before settling on the truth, “I’ve been better.”

“I figured as much, which is why I have a proposition.”

“Yeah?” Chat tries not to cringe, “What’s that?”

“I was wondering if you would have dinner with me? At my place?”

Chat closes his eyes and swallows uncomfortably at the thought. He hasn’t seen Tom or Sabine since the day he’d showed up at her home all those weeks ago and the guilt wells up inside of him, thick and scathing, “I…”

“Please Ch—I mean Adrien. I know you don’t want to but my parents have been really worried. They ask me everyday if you’re alright…”

Chat purses his lips, “I’m in this form Ladybug, you can call me Chat.”

“Sorry,” she ducks her head behind him and the remorse he hears in her voice makes his guilt even worse, “It’s just...you got so mad last time I called you a cat name and I don’t want to make you angry again.”

That’s enough to stop him in his tracks. Chat takes a shaky breath and covers his face with his palms in an attempt to focus on his breathing because _ouch_ , “It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t,” Ladybug insists, her voice taking on a desperate edge, “I just want to make sure that I’m doing the best that I can to help you by any means necessary. It’s my job.”

“It’s not your job,” Chat counters, his eyes still squeezed shut, “Your job is to protect the city of Paris and pass your _Bac_. Then you can worry about me.”

Ladybug sighs audibly behind him, “Then will you please come to my house tonight and have dinner? Even if it’s just for an hour, I would...I would really appreciate it.”

“Ladybug…”

“Please Chat. _Please.”_

He hasn’t been anywhere but his hotel room, his school and Docteur Renée’s office for weeks and the thought of dragging himself to his girlfriend’s house exhausts him, “Do I have to?”

He feels her physically quake behind him through his suit and it makes him want to throw up, “No, you don’t have to.”

She lets go slowly and when she’s finally extricated herself from his body, he feels impossibly cold, “I’m sorry if I put any stress on you Chat. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Chat opens his mouth to reply but when he turns around, she’s already gone.

~

Adrien  
I’m sorry.

Marinette  
It’s no problem.

Adrien  
I wish I could have come.

Marinette  
Me too.

~

Somehow, Adrien successfully makes it through Monday, then Tuesday. The essays and the exams are tough but he makes it though, solely because they’re so thought consuming that they literally drown out every other sound in his head. He pours everything he knows into his papers and comes out of every room with the kind of exhausted relief he’s come to associate with just getting something over and done with, which is a much better feeling than laying in bed and worrying about it. Once he gets back to his room later that night, he can hardly wait to write Thursday’s and Friday’s tests just to get them written and finished.

Chloé’s been chattering in his ear the whole limo ride home and he’s only been half listening, too busy reciting Latin in his head to prepare for the optional exam he’ll be taking bright and early tomorrow morning. He’d been learning the dead language since he was a kid and he knows it will bring up his average just a little, even if it’s not enough to pass with honours. He still doesn’t really care about the honours thing but unlike last week (and his frankly embarrassing temper tantrum), it still niggles him to know that he needs to try his best, if only to prove his worth.

That, and the constant test taking and studying distracts him from the inevitable apology he owes Nino, Alya and Marinette.

[fue **rō** , _I shall have been_ ; fue **ris** , _thou wilt have been_ ; fue **rit** , _he will have been…]_

He’s got to keep focusing on studying and he keeps reciting grammar and verb tenses in his mind as he heads upstairs and enters his hotel room, closing the door behind him. He sits down at his desk and opens his well worn book on advanced latin and skims its pages until the sun disappears behind the cityscape of Paris and his stomach begins growling in earnest, a most annoying interruption. With a long suffering sigh, he walks over to the small fridge by the dining table and opens it, bending down to see if he has anything left over inside.

_Huh?_

He reaches in and pulls out a red plastic container, eyeing it closely. He sets it on top of the microwave that he had stacked on the fridge and peels the folded piece of paper off the lip to read.

_Adrien,_

_I know you’ve been avoiding the three of us and I understand it’s been a hard week, but it still makes me sad to know that you’d rather spend your time alone than with people who love and care about you. Alya and Nino are willing to forgive you as long as you’re willing to apologise. And me? I just want to see you smile. It may be too much for you right now and again, I understand. Writing the Bac, participating in the trial and defending Paris all by myself is getting to be too much for me too._

_These are some leftovers from last night’s dinner. I know how much you love tarte tatin aux tomates so I saved you a piece because I hoped you would like it. Maman was going to make it for you in the hopes that you would change your mind and come over for dinner but the tomatoes were going to go bad so we just made it last night._

_I’m leaving on a trip with my parents on Friday night after my last exam. I’m going to be gone until Tuesday so if something happens to Paris, I hope you’re able to at least consider trying to save it. As for me, I’m going to enjoy a few well earned days off in the sun before my internship begins._

_Marinette_

_P.S. Nooroo will be okay, in case you were wondering._

Adrien blinks and rereads the letter twice. Her tone is obvious, but the ending just about says it all. There’s no _I love you_ , no _see you soon_ , no _we’ll talk when I get home_...

Just _Marinette_.

~

Adrien completes the last of his Thursday exams the next day and fits his sunglasses over his eyes and his beanie over his head as he scans the courtyard for her face, her black hair gleaming in the sunlight, the bubbling sound of her laugh.

He comes up painfully short.

Turning on his heel, Adrien walks as fast as he can to the nearest Métro station and slips into the first westbound train. There’s nothing he can do if she's already left campus; he took way too long to write his last essay anyway so he really shouldn’t be surprised. Regardless, he needs to get across town to Docteur Renée’s office by 17h in order to try and make some sense of what’s going on in his head and maybe, possibly, salvage his relationship with the love of his life too.

“It’s a beautiful day at Docteur Renée’s office!”

“Bonjour,” Adrien responds, walking in passed the live edge wood counter with a small wave. Mme. Poupin says something and he responds in kind, a quick conversation about Paris and the strange weather that seems to be affecting it like a shroud. It’s small talk and it’s kind of surreal, the blaring fact that he hasn’t really engaged in any sort of mindless banter in ages blinking loudly behind his eyes. When did he get so lonely? He’s always been stuck at home against his will and now he’s stuck in his hotel room on his own accord…

He expresses as much once he finally flops down on Docteur Renée’s chaise, “Why am I doing this to myself?”

“I think part of you believes that you’re the problem.”

“...I’m the problem?”

“Well, you said so yourself, you’ve always hated being forced into isolation by your father. So why are you tucking yourself away and refusing invitations and segregating yourself from your friends? You don’t know why yet, but I think on an unconscious level, your self exile is your way of punishing the cause of your pain. And the cause? Yourself.”

“That’s...kind of confusing.”

“But it’s true,” Docteur Renée replies, “Or else you’d be at Marinette’s house right now, eating dinner with her and setting things right.”

“But I can’t!” Adrien tugs on his bangs and barely registers the soft thump beside him as Felix crawls into his lap and begins to purr, “They’re just going to…”

“They’re just going to what?”

“Stare at me. Ask questions about me. Make me feel worse than I already do,” Adrien buries his hands into the white cat’s fur, “That’s what everyone always does.”

“Does Marinette do that?”

“Sometimes, but I hardly get to see her anymore.”

“That’s because you told her to give you space. If you need her company, you need to be honest with her. I don’t know her, but I imagine she respects you enough to listen to your requests. She’s not in your head Adrien, she can’t see that when you ask to be alone, you actually mean the opposite.”

Adrien groans and stares daggers into the cracked plaster of the ceiling, “How do you even know all this?”

Docteur Renée snorts, “Do you really think you’re the only person in the world who’s struggling?”

“It feels like it sometimes,” he mutters back petulantly and Docteur Renée laughs again.

“That’s what they all say, but guess what? There are millions of people in the world who are going through tough times. They’re everywhere and all around you, eating croissants on bistro patios and taking the Métro to get to work. They’re here and there and they’re all trying their best, just like you, to make it through one day at a time. It isn’t easy and some days are better than others, but they get up and try and make it through somehow. And do you know why? Because they have someone worth getting better for.”

“So you can continue telling Marinette that you don’t need her help when you’re actually reaching out for it. You can continue shutting your friends out even though you desperately desire the friendships you could never have as a kid. You can keep avoid dinner invitations even though you’re sick of house salads and plain chicken breast from the kitchen of _La Grande Paris_ and you can keep drowning your thoughts out by studying until you feel sick to your stomach when all you want to do is apologise. Is it going to keep your mind off the hard things? Of course it is. But is it going to help you heal? Absolutely not.”

Docteur Renée laces her fingers together in her lap and leans forwards, “You’ve got a million and one things going on in your brain and I can practically see the storm brewing over your head, so this is my advice. That moleskine notebook, have you been using it?”

Gobsmacked by the sheer honestly of her words, all Adrien can do is stare slack jawed and nod his head.

“Good. I want you to write down each and every worry you have onto a list. Then I want you to read the list and tackle at least three of them each day. Pick the easy ones, the ones that you can easily solve with one or two steps and then take a break and relax for a minute before trying to solve another. I promise, your head will be a little lighter once you take the weight of the world off of your shoulders and send it through your pen.”

Adrien nods again, trying to commit her words to memory. They’re a little harsh today but Adrien supposes he needs to hear it. He's always responded better to commands, having grown up with them all his life, and with all the lack of structure in his life lately, it actually feels kind of good to be told what to do.

“You’re not going to be able to let your hair down if you don’t establish some sort of routine in your life,” Docteur Renée continues as if she’d just read his mind, “So after your final exams tomorrow, I want you to find a scheduling app that works best for you and experiment with it. I want you to put in your appointments first, then set up times for other things. Go to the cinema to see a matinée, for example, or schedule a bath. Set your alarm for a certain time every morning and try and go to bed at the same time at night. Once you have a routine in place, you’ll be much more comfortable with branching out and doing new things.”

“Okay,” Adrien swallows and sits up, hugging Félix to his chest, “Do we have time for one more question?”

“Of course Adrien. What can I help you with?”

“Do you...do you think I should talk to Marinette tonight?”

Docteur Renée tips her head to the side, her lips quirking up into a small smile, “Do you think that you could?”

“Maybe?” Adrien frees one of his hands from Félix’s furry clutches to rub the back of his neck, “I’m not sure I’d be welcome after...after not showing up when they invited me.”

Docteur Renée shakes her head, “I can assure you with absolute certainty that if you showed up at their door right now, they would set a place for you at the table and welcome you in with open arms.”

“What if they didn’t make enough food?”

“They own a bakery _mon beau_ , they have plenty to go around.”

“What if they’re too busy getting ready for their trip?”

“We’re French, nothing gets in the way of dinner time.”

“But what if Marinette is mad—”

“Adrien, are you going to keep making excuses? Or are you going to gather your wits about you and try and make things right?”

He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a weak and feeble attempt to feign the bravery of Chat Noir, “I don’t know?”

“Hmm…” Docteur Renée taps her stylus against her nose, “Do you believe in luck Adrien?”

As the literal harbinger of bad fortune, all Adrien can do is shrug and try not to look as vulnerable as he feels, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then let’s do a coin toss,” she says, fishing a €1 coin from the front pocket of her jeans. She holds it up in the late afternoon sunlight streaming in from the windows and offers him a smile, “Heads and you go to Marinette’s tonight. Tails and you go back to your hotel room and eat leftovers.”

Adrien nods and follows the coin with his eyes and she tosses it up into the air. It lands with a thunk on the hardwood floors and he holds his breath as she steps on the spinning coin to stop its travel and peers down at the result.

“Well?”

Docteur Renée looks up with a smirk, “It looks like Lady Luck is on your side today. It’s heads.”

“It is?” Adrien suddenly feels incredibly nervous and scoops Félix closer, arranging his happily purring face up against his neck, “So I have to go?”

“Well, you don’t _have_ to,” Docteur Renée plucks the coin off the floor and sits back upright, “A coin can’t make you do anything and neither can I, but if that wasn’t a divine sign that you should go and eat a proper meal with people that love you, I don’t know what is.”

“I…” Adrien opens his mouth and closes it several times, gaping like a fish at Docteur Renée’s insistent stare, “Okay.”

He’s rewarded with a wide smile and relief spreads across his shoulders, “Well done Adrien! You should head over there right away.”

“I should?”

“It’s nearly dinner time for most people, so I’d expect you don’t have too much time before they sit down and start to eat. You wouldn’t want to pop in half way through, would you?”

Adrien shakes his head, his heart already thudding in his chest, “No. That would be rude.”

“And while you may be an independent young man, you certainly haven’t forgotten your manners,” Docteur Renée jokes with a smirk, “So what are you waiting for? Get going!”

Standing up, he releases a resolute breath and squares his shoulders, mentally charting out the fastest way to get two arrondissements over in his head. It would be a lot quicker as Chat Noir...he instinctively rubs his fingers together, revelling in the comforting warmth of the silver band on his ring finger. He hadn’t taken it off after returning home from Nooroo’s healing and Plagg had been in a remarkably good mood as a result, which was a miracle unto itself. Would he be willing to transform him so he could get to Marinette’s quicker?

“Um, Adrien?”

The blond spins around at the threshold of the door at blinks in confusion at Docteur Renée’s grinning face, “Yes?”

“Look, I know you and Félix have a _thing_ and I respect that, but if at all possible, could I please have my cat back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Nooroo is feeling better now but that won't be the last we hear from him. There's always consequences to magic in this world and I certainly alluded to where I'm going with this story several times over in this chapter! Let me know in the comments if you caught any of my foreshadowing :)
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter! The next one is going to be adorable, so hold tight for it. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	9. Week Five (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Day of Heroes episode was quite the ride eh? Luckily, if you're feeling a bit traumitised by it all, I have a lovely chapter for you. Full of teeth rotting fluff and steamy smut, I hope you enjoy this as much as I do!
> 
> Special thanks to lalumaoscura for helping add some love to my smut!

_[Week 5]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Presentable]_   
_[Posture: Alert]_   
_[Attitude: Somewhat Cooperative]_   
_[Mood: Nervous]_

The fact that Plagg doesn't even complain should have been his first clue.

In a burst of black lightning and vermilion magic, Chat Noir rushes from the nearest alleyway and scampers along the eaves and the rooftops of the 1ère arrondissement with practiced ease, free from the rush hour traffic clogging the roads and sidewalks beneath his feet. Even the Métro would have been stupid crowded at this time of day, what with everyone trying to run home in time for dinner after a long day’s work.

Chat Noir makes a quick and easy escape, but a subtle one nonetheless.

Crossing the Seine is usually child's play but Chat’s not quite ready to make the front pages again, choosing instead to stick to the shadows of the river’s quays. The late afternoon sun is beating down on the city and it takes much longer than it should to make it to the 4ème but Plagg seems to be on his side this evening as he blends in a little easier, which Chat takes as another blessing from the beleaguered kwami. Chat supposes it's only fair, especially since his own behaviour has deprived Plagg of his other half; he knows the little god loves Tikki just as much as he loves Marinette and even though he doesn't speak of her that often, Adrien’s become long familiar with the dopey look in his kwami’s eyes every time she comes up in their conversations.

Like an oil slick on water, Chat slithers along the shadows of the bridges leading to _l’Île de la Cité_ where Marinette’s home resides across from the _Notre Dame de Paris_ and falters slightly as a thought strikes him, stumbling on one of the support beams that keep the stone platform from plunging into the waters. Exactly how was he supposed to pull this off? He’s been ignoring Tom and Sabine’s invitations ever since his father’s arrest...would they hate him? Would they reject him and turn him away?

The niggling presence in his mind he so often associates with Plagg gives his thoughts a proverbial kick in the ass and Chat winces, rubbing at the back of his head at the phantom pain. A feeling that’s not quite his own floods his vision momentarily and Chat is suddenly intimately aware at how much energy Plagg has spent being extra careful to stay unseen and if he so much as _considers_ bailing on Marinette, the kwami will happily drop his transformation and dump him into the Seine, sogginess be damned. Properly chastened, Chat gulps and nods unconsciously, quickly making it to the other side.

Now comes the hard part.

Detransforming behind a group of bushes, Adrien peeks around to make sure the coast is clear and adjusts his sunglasses and beanie self consciously. There are mostly tourists in this neck of the woods but Adrien is still scared of the sea of paparazzi that continues to try and hunt down his whereabouts, if only to bug him about his father. When they find him, he always tells them the truth—that he knows absolutely nothing—and then promptly runs away to the nearest alcove to hide.

“I can do this,” he mutters to himself, squaring his shoulders as Plagg phases through his hat and settles into the nest of his curls. Since adopting the hat into his daily style, Plagg had made himself quite at home up there, preferring the cozy knitted Marinette creation to the pockets of his clothes. It had bugged him a little at first but he quickly became used to the comforting weight and the kneading of the kwami’s paws against his scalp if he was having one of his “moments”, as he’d come to coin them with Docteur Renée. Adrien doesn't want to take the extra comfort for granted but it’s helping him be a little more mindful of what’s going on around him; having his own cat sized conscious pawing and tugging on his hair helps him during the harder times.

He crosses the road quickly, keeping his eyes peeled but his head down low, hoping to evade any prying citizens from recognising him. He hurries down the sidewalks, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and peers up at the storefront of the _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie _ only to find it closed.

_Merde!_

How does he get in?

Adrien glances back and forth for several moments. Is there an exterior door? There has to be, but where? As Adrien, he’s only ever come into her home through the doors of the bakery…

There!

A few metres down, he finds a fairly innocuous white door with a twelve carved into the brass knocker and he quickly hops up onto the stoop to ring the buzzer before he can so much as hesitate again.

_“Allô?”_

Adrien balks for a moment, “Uh...it’s...um—”

_“Adrien?! Tom, it’s Adrien!”_

“Uh...”

_“Adrien, Adrien? Is that you?”_

“Yes?”

_“Buzz him in!”_

The door unlocks with a clunk and Adrien twists the knob, opening the door into the same staircase he’d usually use if he had come through the bakery. He shuts it behind him and takes a deep breath in an attempt to fight the nervous butterflies welling up at the back of his throat.

“Adrien!”

The door of at the top of the stairs flies open and Adrien gapes at the tiny silhouette waiting for him, “Adrien! It’s so lovely to see you! We’ve been so worried!”

Tom appears from behind Sabine with a booming laugh, blocking out all of the light from the airy apartment, “Adrien! What are you doing down there? Come on up, dinner’s almost ready!”

Adrien reels at the sudden blast of attention sent his way and scales the staircase deliberately, holding onto the bannister for balance. It’s smooth and worn beneath his fingers and as soon as he hits the landing, he finds himself literally swept in through the threshold with a tug of his hand, leaving him gawking just inside.

“Come, come,” Sabine ushers him immediately into the kitchen, “How do you feel about a little spice? I’m serving liangban tofu and roast pork.”

Adrien shrugs, his mind blanking as Sabine all but shoves him onto the extra stool Tom has just fetched from the other side of the room, “I don't know? Maybe?”

There’s a small sound of shock from behind him and Adrien turns around, watching as Marinette tries to school her features from blatant shock into something resembling a smile, “Hey.”

Adrien’s not sure what his face is doing at that moment, but if it’s anything like the cascade of emotions welling up in his chest, he imagines he must look pretty ridiculous, “Hey.”

“I’m glad you could make it,” she approaches him, plucking his hat off his head with a grin that makes his heart ache, “Maman, Adrien's never had spicy food before. Do you want to try some today?”

Swallowing uncomfortably as she sits down beside him, Adrien nods and hopes for the best. He's never been without food per se, but he's also never been exposed to much when it comes to flavours; even on his trips abroad, his diet had been carefully curated to circle around familiar flavours and textures. Tofu would be an entirely new experience for him.

“Just try a little then,” Sabine supplies helpfully, sliding the salad in front of them, “Marinette, serve him a piece without a lot of chillies on it.”

“Oui Maman,” Marinette reaches forwards, brushing her forearm with his and it feels like lightning and static again, “Would you like some pork as well?”

Adrien’s mouth waters as Sabine digs her knife into the crackling, “Yes please. I would love some.”

Tom grins as he snatches another plate from the cupboard and sets it in front of him, “Don’t forget to leave room for dessert. I have a special treat waiting in the ice-box.”

“Yeah?” Adrien oogles the enormous slice of pork being dropped onto his plate and looks back up at Sabine as Marinette slides a piece of soy and sesame dressed tofu onto the side, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Sabine claps her hands and sits down herself, digging into her own piece of meat, “Tom was especially hungry tonight, so he asked for double the protein.”

“I have to keep up this manly physique somehow,” Tom flexes his muscles and Marinette swats him in the belly with a laugh, “It’s hard work being as strong as me.”

Adrien feels his cheeks dimple, “You’ll have to share some of your secrets with me.”

Tom barks with laughter, “My secret? My wife. She can cook a mean meal.”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Sabine waves her fork in the air matter-of-factly, “I cooked him dinner on our second date and he tried to propose to me right after.”

“I did not,” Tom shakes his head, jokingly affronted, “I waited until at least the third date.”

Adrien snickers at the banter and pops some of the pork into his mouth, “This is amazing Mme. Cheng.”

“Ah ah,” Sabine admonishes him and Adrien immediately ducks out of instinct, his shoulders curling up passed his ears. There’s a small gasp to his left and Adrien looks up just as quickly, shocked to find no malice in Sabine’s eyes, “Considering what you—what we’ve all gone through—I think we can be on a first name basis here, don’t you think?”

Marinette nudges him in the side with her elbow and Adrien nods dumbly, gulping down his glass of water. Plagg, still buried in his curls, kneads his scalp in small circles, “Yes.”

“Then it’s settled,” Sabine clunks the side of her fork through the tofu and offers him a little wink, “Now eat up, you look starved.”

 _That’s because I am_ , he thinks, gobbling down half of his pork before Tom can finish refilling his glass. He goes after the tofu and groans when the salty sauce hits his taste buds, bursting like fireworks and _god,_ since when did food ever taste this good? Sabine makes a remark about it and Marinette laughs but their words are entirely lost on him, irrelevant compared to the tingles on his tongue that make the insides of his ears burn and his cheeks warm with heat.

He bats his eyes several times to try and blink away the fire in his mouth and devours another piece because _holy hell_ , he is officially _obsessed_ and he says as much, dousing his tongue with more water before diving into the salad yet again.

“Spice can be addictive,” Sabine remarks, tapping the side of her nose with a delighted smirk, “I’m glad you like it.”

“I _love_ it,” Adrien raves, stabbing his fork into his third slice of pork, “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Sabine says with a flustered smile. Laughing, Tom wraps his arm around her shoulders and agrees with him wholeheartedly, “This is just the regular Dupain-Cheng fare, nothing special.”

“Maman, you’re the best cook I know,” Marinette beams brightly, reaching her arm around Adrien’s waist and hugging him briefly before hooking her thumb in the loop of his waistband, “Even better than Mme. Césaire!”

“Now you’re just being silly,” Sabine blushes and Adrien can see where Marinette gets it from, the fiery rush of rose flooding Sabine’s cheeks overwhelming her complexion, “Now Adrien will expect special meals every time he comes to visit!”

“Eating anything you make is a privilege,” Adrien responds and he means it, leaning into Marinette’s embrace. Now he truly understands what Sabine had meant about food being a way to a man’s heart; is this what he’s been missing all his time?

“Flaterer,” Sabine swats her hand and Tom continues to tease her as Marinette joins in on the fun. Adrien leans back for a moment and watches in awe at the conversation, at the jokes and the comments and the praises being flung back and forth across the table. All his life, he hadn’t even been allowed to speak in the dining room, much less talk about his day or share his thoughts with his family. How could he have possibly been deprived of this for so long? And why had he kept himself from visiting when _this_ is what a family meal should be like?

His smile still impossibly wide, Adrien realises that those days are over. Sure, there will still be meals alone, a quick ristretto at the café in the hotel or a premade sandwich from the bistro on the corner, but he doesn’t always have to eat by himself. Docteur Renée had told him to start using a scheduling app to make things easier for him to cope with the stress and the changes...maybe he could start right here.

“Is it...is it okay if I come for dinner sometimes?”

Both Sabine and Tom stop in their tracks; even Marinette freezes beside him as their faces spread into broad, matching smiles, “Of course Adrien. You’re welcome here anytime you like.”

“Really?”

“Always.”

~

He’s likely eaten his weight in food by the time he helps Sabine clear the table after dessert, washing dishes for the third time in his life. It’s really not so hard; he’s had to wash the beakers at school after experiments in chemistry class and he picks up on what to do quickly before anyone can notice.

“That was delicious,” he mentions over his shoulder as Tom covers the other half of the strawberry tarte with a glass cloche, “Like, the best I’ve ever had. How did you make it taste so good?”

“The secret ingredient,” Tom replies with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “But if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Adrien snorts and Marinette rolls her eyes, jabbing a finger into her father’s side, “It’s balsamic vinegar.”

“Marinette!” Tom braces himself on the counter and makes a show of falling down to his knees, “Betrayed by my own daughter!”

“Hardly,” Marinette pats his shoulder in mock condolence, “Everyone is using balsamic in their strawberry desserts nowadays. It’s a trend.”

“Ignore them,” Sabine murmurs from beside him, elbow deep in suds as she hands him another dish to rinse “They’re like this all the time, always teasing each other.”

“I think it’s funny,” Adrien replies as Marinette and Tom continue to squabble, the former currently screaming as Tom lifts her off the floor by her waist and holds her aloft, “I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time with my own family in my life.”

Sabine nods in understanding, “Sometimes, family doesn’t have to be about who you’re related to. Before I married Tom, I didn’t know anyone in Paris beyond my aunt and uncle.”

“How did you make friends?”

“My classes at university,” she responds, “It was only then that I realised that family can be whoever you want them to be.”

“Whoever you want?”

“Absolutely, so long as you love them and they love you back. That’s how I found the love of my life...his family welcomed me in and I never looked back.”

Adrien frowns, “Do you still keep in touch with your actual family?”

“This is my actual family,” she answers with a broad sweep of her arms, “But yes, I do chat regularly with my blood family. They come to visit now and then and all is well. I just...needed to live abroad for a while to understand just how much they meant to me.”

Adrien nods, “But you wouldn’t move back in with them.”

“Never,” she chuckles, dousing the silverware in water, “I love them with all my heart but no, definitely not. Sometimes it’s more about the people in your life who accept you for who you are than simple genetics. It’s here where my heart found its home, not there, and I hope with all my heart that you can find the same.”

“I…” Adrien is momentarily speechless, “Yeah...I hope so too.”

“With or without Marinette, you'll find your family,” she shares a private smile, “Although I have a feeling it will be with her, judging by the band on your finger and the jewels in her ears.”

Adrien’s face reddens considerably, “I really hope so.”

Sabine laughs, “And you have Tom and I on your side of course, but I think you needed a little reminder tonight. We haven’t seen you in a month!”

Adrien ducks his head, his chest tightening with emotion, “It’s been...hard for me to adjust.”

“All the more reason to rely on your friends, or in this case, your family,” Sabine hands him the last dish and empties the sink, rinsing the soap from her arms, “Now, why don’t you go upstairs and help Marinette study for the last of your final exams tomorrow. Marinette said you both have the same ones?”

“Philosophy and history,” he responds, drying his hands with the proffered dish towel, “Are you sure it’s okay if I stay?”

“As long as you’re studying, you can stay for as long as you want. Just don’t stay up too late, you both need your rest if you’re going to do well tomorrow.”

Adrien agrees vigorously, “We will. Thank you.”

“Go on then,” she shoos him out of the small kitchen and he joins Marinette who’s already waiting for him by the stairs, “Don't be loud, we're heading to bed shortly.”

“Oui Maman,” Marinette nods and links her arm with his, tugging him upstairs, “Come on, I need help with the medieval stuff again.”

~

“Is everything alright?”

Three hours of studying later, Marinette re-enters her room through the trapdoor with two glasses of water and a self deprecating smirk, “Yeah, it was just Maman.”

“What did she say?”

“She said you could sleep over as long as I tell Papa that you slept on the chaise.”

“Ah,” Adrien grimaces, remembering the lecture both he and Marinette had earned shortly after he'd been knocked out by Loïc and subsequently outed as Chat Noir to her parents, “Wait, as long as we _tell_ him? What about her?”

“Maman’s not under any illusions. She knows we've shared a bed before.”

“Yikes,” Adrien shudders, “That’s kind of…”

“Weird? Yeah,” Marinette closes the door quietly and plops down on the chaise beside him, handing him a glass, “But that's what we get for getting caught on camera.”

The thought of their infamous sex tape still makes him shiver, “Will we ever live that one down?”

“I don't think so,” Marinette snickers, bunting his shoulder with her own, “Just don't search yourself on Tumblr.”

Adrien laughs, “As if I hadn't already. The fan artists do a great job of recreating my ass. I should buy a commission.”

“Noooo,” Marinette leans away and swats him in the chest, “Please don’t.”

“Why not?” he smirks, “My place could use a little decoration.”

“If you hang a picture of your naked ass on your wall, I will never come and visit you again,” she threatens, wagging her finger at him. She just barely manages to move it in time as Adrien leans in to try and capture it with his teeth, grinning all the while.

“Then I’ll just have to come and visit you here,” he reasons, leaning into her space. She sticks out her tongue and pushes herself off her chaise just to get away from him.

“You’re so weird,” she complains, but the relieved smile on her face says just the opposite.

Adrien winks, “But I’ll be your weirdo, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course,” she rolls her eyes and doesn’t fight him as he wraps his arms around her waist and tugs her closer, “It’s hard to say no to you when you…”

“...when I what?”

“When you…” Marinette waves her hands around and flops into his lap, “When you do that thing with your face.”

“That thing with my face?” Adrien raises an incredulous brow, “Well, that narrows it down.”

“You know what I mean,” she harrumphs, crossing her arms over her chest. Smirking, Adrien soaks in her pouty silhouette as her cheeks turn dusty pink.

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” he insists, playing dumb. Adrien knows exactly what she means, but it never hurts to hear her say it out loud for him, “So you’ll have to be more specific.”

She sighs loudly, her bangs blowing upwards at the sudden rush of air, “Fine. You’re really handsome.”

“Thank you,” he says, genuinely pleased to hear it. It’s been a while since anyone has said anything positive about him as of late, not that he’s looked at the tabloids lately; he’s still avoiding those like the plague, “You’re beautiful too, on the inside and out, and I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick lately.”

“Apology accepted,” she finally turns to face him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “I have to admit, I was pretty pissed off at you the other day when I wrote you that letter.”

“I could tell and I totally deserved it,” Adrien admits, “My therapist had to convince me to come and make amends.”

“I like your therapist already,” Marinette leans into him and rests her cheek on the top of his head, “You made Maman and Papa very happy too. They’ve missed having you around, especially Papa. He has no one else to make silly puns with.”

“I...I missed them too.”

“Yeah?” Marinette pulls back for a moment to scan her face and smiles at what she sees, “That makes me really really happy.”

Adrien closes his eyes as she presses a kiss to the crown of his head, “Good. I was worried they were going to be mad at me.”

“Mad? Hardly,” Marinette relaxes into him and Adrien snuggles closer, inhaling the scent of strawberries from the jelly stain on her shirt, “More like disappointed, but they knew you would come by eventually and now they’re going to want you to come over _all_ the time just to fatten you up.”

Adrien snorts, “If your father said one more thing about me being too skinny…”

“I must have kicked him a hundred times under the table,” Marinette grouses, her fingers creeping into the messy curls at the nape of his neck, “He had no right to say that to you after what you’ve been through.”

“Well he’s not wrong,” Adrien leans into Marinette’s ministrations, “I’ve lost some muscle mass since quitting my night job.”

Marinette hesitates long enough for Adrien to feel the uncertainty toiling in her thoughts, “About that…”

“I’m slowly getting back into the swing of things,” Adrien answers before she can say anything, “I’m just...a little hesitant to show my face again after all this time.”

“You do realise half of Paris thinks you’re dead right?” Marinette tightens her grip on his hair for a moment before loosening her grasp, “I had to hold a press conference just to convince them that you were just taking an extended vacation.”

“Sorry,” Adrien murmurs, guilt welling up inside of him once again, “I really didn’t mean to cause all this trouble...I just—”

“It’s no big deal Adrien,” Marinette interrupts, “I managed to deal with them for now but eventually they’ll start bugging me again. Have you watched the news at all?”

“God no,” Adrien breathes, shaking his head, “That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“It’s not all that bad really,” she shrugs, rubbing her fingers in languid circles against his scalp, “The press is on your side. They’ve been really sympathetic.”

“Well that’s...good I guess,” Adrien doesn’t quite know what to make of that, “Especially since I had nothing to do with it.”

“I think everyone knows that, especially considering how often you were attacked over the years. People are pretty pissed off about that too you know, about how often he put Paris’ favourite model in harm’s way. And Chloe, did you know she’s pressing charges? She was the direct target of at least a hundred akuma over the years and she’s citing aggravated assault.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Adrien replies, having already heard about the charges from Chloé herself, “I wished her luck.”

“You did? That's..well, what do you think about it?”

“I think he deserves everything that’s coming his way. He brought this on himself.”

Marinette doesn't reply for several seconds, “Would you be mad if I said I agreed with you?”

“Not at all,” Adrien feels surprisingly open about this, all things considered, “You and I both had to deal with what he did to us for years. You have more right than anyone.”

“Except for you,” Marinette’s voice lowers and Adrien feels his skin prickle, “No one has more right than you.”

He's been wondering when she would finally bring this up, but with a full belly and a comfortable weight pressing against him in an embrace he didn't even realise he needed so badly, the words just kind of flow, “I hate him for what he did to me, to all of us. I never told you, but that day I had Tikki and transformed and flew over to your house...do you know what he did?”

Marinette shakes her head and Adrien takes a deep breath, “He told me we were leaving Paris. He knew the police were onto him and when I started to protest, he threatened to take everything from me, school, fencing, my friends. He took my mobile and told me to go pack, but not before firing everyone in the company. He thought Ladybug or Chat Noir might have been one of his employees.”

“He never figured out it was you?”

“He must have had his suspicions,” Adrien shrugs, “Why else would he have attacked me so many times?”

“I'm not going to answer that…”

“I know I know,” he mutters, flicking his wrist dismissively, “But still.”

“Did you even count how many times you were targeted?” she asks, pressing her lips into a thin line, “How about that time you were turned into a golden statue? Or almost cut in half? Or thrown off the edge of a skyscraper where you almost died before I could save you?”

“I knew I could always count on you.”

“But you shouldn't have needed to be saved in the first place,” Marinette's voice begins to rise in volume, “Because he should have _never_ put you in harm's way to begin with.”

Marinette leaps off his lap and begins to pace the floor, her fingers drawn into fists, “Do you know how many hours I've spent furious about how he treated you? About how often he put you in danger for his own selfish game?”

Whirling around, Marinette faces him in all her raging glory, every bit the scary superhero that she is, “You mean _way_ too much to me for me to just let this go. You're my partner, my other half, and I promise you with every cell in my body that I will bring Le Papillon to justice. He is going to spend the rest of his life in jail for even _thinking_ about harming a hair on your head because _you_ are too _important_ to lose and I almost lost you so many times.”

She stalks towards him and he'd be _damned_ if that entire tantrum of hers didn't get him a little hot under the collar, “Never again will that _asshole_ hurt you. I won't let him. I love you too much.”

Hauling him to his feet, Marinette drags him behind her and places him at the bottom of the ladder, shoving him upwards, “Get into bed. I'll be up in a second.”

“Uhhh,” Adrien stops dead at the look she gives him and promptly follows her orders, rushing up the stairs, “I don't have any pyjamas?”

“You don't need them,” comes her muffled reply, “Just strip.”

_Oh boy._

Adrien takes off his shirt and jeans and tosses them off the platform, shucking his socks along with them. Should he keep his briefs on? Probably, because they really needed to get some sleep before their exam but this angry Mama Bear act Marinette is pulling off is doing all sorts of things to his blood pressure and _holy hell_ , here she comes.

“Cuddle with me,” Marinette demands, her head popping up at the foot of the bed and Adrien nods far too eagerly, pushing back the sheets just enough for her to slip in beside him. She's wearing a bralette and a matching pair of panties he's never seen before and he tries to commit this gorgeous image to memory before she tugs him closer and latches onto his side like a pouty octopus.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes,” she grumbles, pouting harder. Adrien would laugh but there's murder in her eyes and fire in her heart and it's the kind of ‘Ladybug Look’ he’s long learned not to question, “You're perfect and I love you and no one can take you away from me, do you understand?”

Adrien shudders, pressure flaring at the base of his spine, “Yes.”

“Good. Now go to sleep.”

He's always been good at following orders but apparently his cock is disagreeing with him tonight, “Can I have a goodnight kiss at least?”

“I suppose,” Marinette whispers in his ear and it’s been an entire week since he last pressed his lips against hers, “Just one.”

She cranes her neck up to meet him and brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth, pressing ever so slightly before leaning closer. She gently draws his lower lip between hers and kisses him once, lingering a hair’s breadth away as she slowly pulls back. Adrien closes his eyes and relishes in the familiar weight in his arms and the shadow of her smile on his skin, a blessing against all odds; all week he wasn’t sure if he’d lost her or not, their fights weighing heavily on his mind.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leans forwards to steal another kiss, this one a little deeper than the last. His hand skirts across her shoulder, his slow moving fingers caressing her skin and he bends back to look into her eyes, his lips so close to hers that he can hardly resist the urge to kiss her again. Sighing, she presses against the weight of his hand and closes her eyes with a small, satisfied smile; like him, she felt every moment they were apart.

“We should sleep,” she insists, slowly trailing her fingers across his cheekbones, the sharp angle of his nose, the rough line of his jaw. He watches her reverently, his eyes never once leaving hers as she traces the outline of his lips and the purple bruises beneath his eyes, his lack of sleep as clear as day now that she’s only centimetres apart. She frowns, her worry evident, and Adrien hates seeing her like this, her brows drawn together in concern rather than concentration as he wraps his arm around her waist and draws her closer because she’s just not close enough, not near enough to ease the tension welling up at the back of his throat.

He bends and begins to kiss her neck instead, grazing his teeth across all of the familiar spots that make her moan and squirm with need. She tips her head back with a whole body shudder and Adrien can’t help but smile a little as he leaves a trail of kisses down her collarbone, worshipping every freckle and mole with his lips as her fingers bury themselves in his hair, turning him to putty in her hands once more.

“I missed you,” he breathes, lifting his head to press his nose to hers, “I missed you so much.”

She sighs and cups his cheek in her hand, her eyes lidded with relief, “I missed you too.”

Leaning in, he takes his time with her, their lips parting in a shared gasp of pleasure as he turns onto his side and presses his body flush against her own, shuddering in tandem at the sudden friction between them. He’s starving for her and she’s just as eager, final exams be damned.

“We really shouldn’t…” Marinette trails off as Adrien’s fingers travel down her back and up her side, cupping her breast through the rose coloured lace of her bralette. He can feel her nipple harden at the touch and he runs his thumb against it over and over, his body quickly responding to her gasps. She presses her entire body flush against him and shifts her hips, smirking at the purr that rumbles up from his chest at the magnetic charge between them, electric and easy all at once. There’s no rush, no grappling for control as he continues to palm her breasts, falling into a lazy rhythm of exquisite friction as he sucks a trail of kisses along the column of her throat, careful not to leave a mark. There would be time for that later, he thinks, and the last thing he wants is for Marinette to worry about covering a bruise when she should be focusing on exams.

He wants to lose himself a little, to forget a little, to forget everything else and be consumed by her, by her touches, her voice, her fingertips along his skin. He wants to remove every scrap of clothing that’s keeping her apart from him and take his time with her, exploring her whole body, every kiss a thought that lingers until drowned out by the next and the next. He wants to fall apart in her arms and he wants her to so the same, to hold her and never let go, to make love to her until they’re both sweaty and satisfied, exhausted with bliss.

He wants it all.

He wants _her._

It feels good to take care of her like this and Adrien takes the role on hungrily, meeting her stroke for stroke as her hips grind against him, his cock still trapped in his briefs. She seems to read his mind and hooks a thumb into the waistband of her panties, tugging them down just enough for Adrien to take over, pushing them down to her knees and using his toes to kick them right off her ankles. He makes a clever quip and she laughs and the normalcy of it all feels so good, giggles bubbling up inside his chest and bursting passed his lips and there are few better things than the look on her face as she joins in, tears beading at the corners of her eyes.

“You’re such a doofus,” she tells him between snickers, flicking his nose gently with her free hand and Adrien can only grin as he increases the pressure between them, wrapping his arms around her waist for the leverage he needs to enact his revenge for her insults.

“ _Ah!_ ”

Ruthlessly, Adrien trails his fingers towards her centre, dragging his fingertips up and down along her slit just light enough to tease. She keens as he clips her clit between his thumb and forefinger before abandoning it all together, slipping a finger inside her folds. She buries her face in the crook of his neck and nearly sobs in relief as he begins to pump his finger in and out of her, the pace just steady enough to make her toes curl and her breath stutter.

She spreads her thighs as far as she can manage on her side and luxuriates in the pressure he gifts her with, holding on for dear life as she snaps her hips up to meet his every flick of the wrist. He takes a deep breath and just soaks her in, every needy moan and greedy gasp a reward as he adds a second finger and grinds the butt of his palm against her sopping centre, pressing just hard enough on her clit to drive her to insanity. She's close and he just wants to give her this, this blissful release that she always goes out of her way to give him when they're together so he doubles his efforts, setting the tempo at a brutal, rushing pace.

She stiffens beneath him and her eyes pop open, her lips parting in a perfect oh as she clamps down on his digits, falling apart in his arms. She quivers and swears, her pupils blown wide as she stares at him like he's the centre of her universe and he keeps his fingers moving, his entire hand practically soaking in her arousal as her hips lose all sense of rhythm, her head lolling back with pleasure. The very vision of her like this, gorgeous and pliant beside him is enough to remind him just why he fell so damn hard for her in the first place.

Spent, Marinette flops onto her back and pants, her chest heaving for breath, her lips and limbs tingling as every nerve end tries to recover. Adrien can hardly tear his eyes away as he reaches beneath his waistband and thrusts into the slickness coating his hand and _fuck_ , he's the luckiest man in the world as she opens her eyes and watches him pleasure himself with a sated smile.

“Make love to me.”

_God yes._

His briefs are gone in an instant, the offending article hastily shoved passed his ankles as he climbs on top of her, delighting in the matching shivers of anticipation they both feel as he dives in for another hungry kiss. He runs his tongue against his bottom lip and draws it in, the brush of tongues and teeth all-consuming as she arches up against him, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“Adrien,” she gasps and _god_ , he loves it when she whispers his name like this, breathy and yearning and like a prayer just for him as she reaches down to press the pad of her finger against her clit. He wastes no time after that particular visual and thrusts into her with one smooth stroke, slick and hot and mind numbingly addictive as she clenches around him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head from the sensation alone. He can hardly control himself, his forehead falling against the pillow above her head with a clunk as he tries to find his dignity.

He hardly recognizes the sounds coming from his throat as she starts to squirm beneath him, her hips making little thrusts of their own as she draws her hand away from her centre and turns her head to face him. She whispers something positively filthy in his ear and he gasps just long enough for her to slide her fingers into his mouth and _fuck,_ the taste of her on his tongue and the slick heat of her core and the needy little gasps she makes as she all but fucks herself on his cock has him practically on the edge of orgasm already, his vision flooded with stars.

He’s long passed holding himself back any longer, his hips bucking forward as his pleas come out as haggard gasps, lost in the sensation of her, drowning out the storm. She goes back to fingering herself again and Adrien tries his best to match her relentless pace, her mewls and cries growing more and more desperate, her walls contracting against his cock. He’s trying to scrabble for control but it’s impossible when she’s chanting his name in his ear, begging him to fuck her harder and his breath catches, his chest seizes and he’s suddenly coming apart inside of her harder than he has in ages, awash in the sensation of _her._

She’s still trembling beneath him as he collapses bonelessly at her side and slips out of her with a whimper, entirely over-stimulated and exhausted, her toes still curling as the rush of her orgasm begins to subside. He watches her profile as she recovers from her high, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks, her tongue as it peeks out to moisten her lips, swollen and parched. His own pleasure satisfied for the meantime, he reaches out and hugs her to his chest, desperate to touch her, to hold her close, to feel her chest against his as she catches her breath.

“I love you,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too,” she replies, all warmth and joy as she dissolves all of the space between them, now flush against his skin.

They fall asleep after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this marks the end of the Sadrien Arc. I'll be taking a two week break from to set up the Madrien Arc, which will feature the D/S storyline you've all been waiting on baited breath for, as well as a new villain and, of course, the trial of Gabriel Agreste.
> 
> For the meantime, I have two projects going. One, called Eulogy for Yue Lao, is a oneshot I recently posted about Master Fu. I consider it Masquerade-verse compliant since I may reference a few things from that story in Safeword as we discover more about Nooroo and the still missing Peacock Miraculous! Please take a read and leave a kudos/comment!
> 
> The second is one I have been trying to write for years, and if you've visited me on tumblr recently (ao3bronte), then you will have seen the post about my long awaited Figure Skating AU. So I'll be dabbling in that as well, along with Heat and Molotov Cocktail. The writing never ends in my crazy world!


	10. Week 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! A little delayed mind you, had a bit of a family emergency to contend with and of course, the perks of working 3 jobs never ceases to keep me on my toes.
> 
> Time to get _wet_ ;)

_[Week 7]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Presentable]_   
_[Posture: Alert]_   
_[Attitude: Somewhat Cooperative]_   
_[Mood: Erratic]_

A lot can happen in two weeks.

It’s mid July now and Adrien is coping for the most part, occupying his time by writing, tackling worries, playing video games and swimming in the rooftop pool when it isn’t pouring rain. The week by week scheduling app he’s using is working better than he’d hoped too; the app helps manage his day to day responsibilities so he can spend more time doing the things he actually wants to do, like spreading his burgeoning wings and testing the boundaries of his newly found freedom with an enthusiasm that only gets stronger each and every day.

It’s a little like being Chat Noir.

For example, he needs a haircut but...does he? His lawyer, Mme. Fiable, had severed all of his modelling contracts for him so it’s not like he has a picture perfect appearance to maintain. One look in the mirror and you’d think he was his alter ego without the mask, all wild tresses and unruly bangs that he’s slowly been growing more fond of. It suits him as far as he’s concerned, but it does get in the way occasionally; it’s just long enough that Marinette had forced him to wear a hair clip the other day just so he could go down on her without having to brush it back every five seconds.

No wonder Marinette keeps hers in ponytails.

Surprisingly, Marinette hadn’t really offered her opinion on the longer hairstyle yet, which had him understandably curious. Did she like the messy Chat Noir vibes he was giving off? He wants to ask but he knows it’s still a touchy subject to broach ever since he had a meltdown about it. Would she be happy if he told her that he didn’t mind the cat references anymore? That he’d mostly gotten over his initial aversion after some very careful questions to his therapist about accepting his “other” self? Everytime it came up, she would usually change the subject so quickly that he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Was she doing this on purpose for his benefit? Or was there something else going on? She was constantly skirting around the issue and walking on eggshells when it came to the uncertainty of returning to his former mantle, flinging distractions at him until they got off topic all together.

Usually, Adrien loves a ‘Marinette Distraction’. They tend to involve blowjobs and sex or family dinners.

But tonight?

Well, he _really_ hates this distraction.

“Who’s Sacha again?”

“Adrien, I’ve told you a million times, he’s the other design student assigned to Maison Michel with me,” Marinette replies in exasperation, brushing her bangs from her forehead as she takes another bite of her panino, “He just transferred here from the UK Fashion Institute, but his French is great and he’s really funny. We’ve been working there for only a week and a half and he’s already got all of the women who frequent the shop in the palm of his hands.”

“Yeah?” Adrien takes a particularly vicious chomp of his own sandwich, “Sounds like quite the charmer.”

“He is!” Marinette giggles and Adrien hates it, “Did you know that he’s already got my coffee order memorised?”

“Wow,” Adrien realises he doesn’t even know how Marinette likes her coffee, “A great memory too.”

Marinette nods, “He’s the whole package, that’s for sure. We’re lucky to have him, honestly. I always have trouble greeting clients and it just comes to him naturally, I don’t know how he does it.”

Adrien keeps on silently gnashing his meal as Marinette continues, “Our supervisor just loves him too. She has me working back of house mostly just because he more than makes up for any of the employees there when it comes to greeting customers and making them feel comfortable so I don’t mind really. I like being behind the scenes because I actually get to watch the hats being made and the design process and all that.”

“Well that’s good that you’re getting a first hand look at it,” Adrien responds flatly, plucking a piece of tomato from where it had fallen onto the wax paper, “It sounds like a good place to work.”

“It is, I’m loving it so far,” she smiles and sets her sandwich aside, flopping back onto his hotel room’s couch cushions, “I’m so lucky to have gotten the opportunity, you know? Sacha’s going into his second year but he told me that only a handful of pre-term applicants were actually accepted into the internship program at the Institute so it means I’m going to get a huge leg up in September when I begin the program because I’ll already have so much practical experience.”

“So do you actually get to design anything?”

“Not yet, but it’s only been ten days,” Marinette tucks her feet in beneath her and turns towards him, “I’ve been able to watch and do some sketching though. Coquetteries have been flying off the shelves so I may be asked to help, although I’m not sure if they actually will. Sacha thinks they will because of my portfolio and Inès, my supervisor, has been really pushing me to get involved. I thought I’d end up just running the till and brewing coffees, to be honest, but I’m actually learning a lot.”

“That’s nice,” Adrien finishes his sandwich and brushes the crumbs from his shirt, crushing the wax paper into a ball, “So is it just you and this Sacha guy there?”

“We’re the only two assigned from the Institute. There are two other employees who work with certain clients and do the measurements and stuff. Gaspard is probably as old as the Maison itself and he’s been working there forever even though they didn’t actually open a boutique until 2013.”

“I’ve met him a few times,” Adrien murmurs, taking a deep breath, “He’s...different, that’s for sure.”

Marinette snickers and cuddles closer, “I honestly didn’t think he could speak until it heard him talk to a client the other day, and even then he only told the client to turn around.”

“He scared me a lot as a kid,” Adrien confirms, enjoying the warmth of her body against his side, “I always hated going for fittings with him.”

“Yeah,” Marinette rests her head on his shoulder and he rests his temple against her hair, “And what about you? Have you thought more about what your therapist said about finding something to do?”

Adrien had been mulling over Docteur Renée’s words from their latest appointment repeatedly for days and he’s still as stuck on them now as he was then. Did he bother trying to find an apprenticeship or a job? He may have received high honours on his _Bac,_ which he honestly hadn’t been expecting, but he’s still loathe to put himself out there so soon after his father’s arrest, “Yes and no. She’s still trying to encourage me to find a passion but I can’t think of what I want to spend my energy on. I don’t think anyone would want to hire me right now, especially with the trial coming up.”

“No? Well...,” Marinette snatches his hand from his lap and tangles their fingers together, rubbing her thumb against his index finger, “Here me out. I have an idea that I think might work for you, but only if you’re willing to cheat a little.”

“Cheat?” Adrien’s eyebrow raised incredulously, “What do you mean?”

“Well, remember how you used to visit the akuma victims at the hospitals when I couldn’t capture Loïc’s akuma and purify the city? And how you told me that you wanted to get into non-profit organisations like your Maman did with Angela Missoni’s charity?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about a way that you could do still do something like that, so I told Maman and Papa what was going on and what you were thinking about and the three of us kind of came up with an idea that we thought you might be interested in. Would you like to hear it?”

Adrien swallows and tries not to stiffen beside her, “...okay.”

“Alright, so. What if you started going back to the hospitals but instead of akuma victims, you picked another focus, like the children’s ward? You could hold fundraisers and sing-a-longs and bring some joy back into their lives...I know how much you loved handing out candies and stickers and singing with them whenever you could.”

Adrien is quiet for a long moment, “I don’t think I can handle it right now, to be honest.”

“That’s okay,” Marinette assures him, squeezing his hand, “Just think about it for a while and see if it’s something that might interest you. You told me before that a non-profit organisation might be your calling so I just thought…”

“That was before, Marinette.”

“But you still could do it! It would just have to be done a little differently.”

“How?” Adrien shakes his head and pulls his hand away from hers, “Where’s the money coming from? Who’s funding this? Who are my investors?”

“Well, my Papa thought this up so bear with me, but we thought maybe you could start the foundation as Adrien, but let Chat Noir do the leg work.”

_“What?!”_

“I know, I know, not now, I understand. But it’s a good idea right? You could run things behind the scenes and Chat Noir could be the face of the brand!”

Adrien has reeled back so far he’s nearly falling off the other side of the couch, his eyes blown wide at the very thought of what she’s trying to explain to him. How could she avoid talking about his alter ego for weeks and then throw this at him? “I can’t do that. I _literally_ cannot possibly do that.”

“And that’s okay!” Marinette raises her palms placatingly, scooching closer to him, “You don’t have to do anything right now. I just wanted you to know that you have options! You can still do the things you want to do, even if it looks different than what you thought it would look like before. Look at me! I thought I was going to grow up and have my own boutique on Les Champs Elysées!”

Adrien blinks, completely blindsided, “Except that’s an actual possibility. This? Not so much.”

“Yes it is!” Marinette presses, “Only Chat Noir would have to be in the spotlight, not you. I mean, you could run the organisation from this hotel room if you wanted.”

“I think you’re missing a very important piece of information Marinette,” Adrien’s eyes stay comically wide as he splays his hands before him, “I can hardly take care of myself, let alone a business.”

Marinette snorts, “Yes you can, don’t be silly. You’re doing just fine on your own.”

“No I’m not,” Adrien counters immediately, gesturing around him, “I still can’t cook my own meals.”

“Mme. Césaire offered to teach you.”

“I don’t know how to clean things.”

“Maman taught you how to vacuum the other day!”

“I don’t know how to make appointments or order things!”

“All things you can do on the internet so you don’t actually have to talk to people!”

“I don’t know how to—”

“Adrien, are you going to keep making excuses? Because you’re not quite as helpless as you think.”

Marinette’s voice has gone from indulgent to determined, her spotted mask stretching across her face in his mind’s eye, “You’re perfectly capable of doing all of these things if you’d just let yourself. Adrien, you’re kind and generous and your heart is in the right place, so while you may not be ready now, I think this could be a good opportunity for you to get back onto your feet and do something that you’re passionate about. My parents, they’re small business owners so they know a thing or two about starting something from the ground up and they want to help you. Plus, you’ll be able to find everything you need on the internet.”

“I...” Adrien swallows and glances away from Ladybug’s Marinette’s tenacious stare, “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Marinette sits back on her haunches, placated for now, “You’ve been busy your whole life you know...sometimes I worry that all this free time isn’t good for you.”

“It’s not all free time,” Adrien shrugs, “I go to therapy appointments. I went to the dentist yesterday and a movie with Nino the day before.”

“And you’ve also played Mecha Strike V for nearly twenty four hours straight today, I know because you’re still in the same clothes as yesterday. That, and you stink.”

“Touché,” Adrien grimaces, running his fingers through his messy tresses, “It’s just nice to be lazy.”

“I know I know,” she smirks, giving him a once over, “But my point still stands. It's not healthy to sit around all day and stare at a screen.”

“Says the girl who will also spend hours and hours playing Mecha Strike V,” Adrien counters, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Not anymore,” Marinette looks away, her shoulders slumping, “I wish I had more time for playing games and relaxing and hanging out with friends, but I haven’t been able to take a day off since my parents and I went on vacation after my last exam.”

Adrien thinks back to the flurry of Instagram posts and Snapchat stories of her time in Saint-Malo just over a week ago, “You don’t have to go to your apprenticeship every day do you?”

“Oh no,” Marinette flicks her wrist dismissively, “I only spend about fifteen hours a week there. It’s the other stuff that keeps me busy. My Etsy shop, for example, and the bakery, not to mention the fact that I have to attend hearings, talk to lawyers, keep in touch with the police and single handedly defend Paris from criminals.”

Adrien swallows uncomfortably, “It's not so bad now is it?”

“Well, the constant rain has kept the crime rate down, although there have been a few muggings and fights in the Métro over the last few days. There's been some flooding in the low lying areas as well so I'm being kept on my toes.”

“I'm sorry.”

Marinette just shrugs, “I'm long past being upset about it. I just have to deal with it.”

Adrien averts his eyes and focuses on a chocolatey smudge on the glass coffee table, unwilling to watch her face grow any more discouraged; he’s already well versed in her discomfort at being left to fight crime on her own but now that a strange weather phenomenon has taken over Paris, Marinette’s mood is only getting well, moodier for lack of a better term. He supposes this is payback for being so moody himself...

In the back of his mind, he wonders if there’s more to strange weather than meets the eye.

“So are you going to go get a shower or not?”

Jolted from his reverie, Adrien shrugs, “I guess...do you want to join me?”

“Hmm…”

There’s a hint of playfulness in her expression and Adrien jumps on the chance, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Yeah?” Marinette crosses her arms over her chest, “How so?”

“Uh…” Adrien honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, “You’ll uh...get clean too?”

Marinette snorts and doesn’t budge, “I think I’ll just stay here thanks. You go have fun though.”

“Come _on_ ,” Adrien tries to convince her, wagging his eyebrows, “We’ve never had shower sex before.”

“As much as the idea tempts me, I think I’ve been rained on enough lately,” Marinette glances outside as the storm pounds against the balcony windows, “I don’t want to get wet again.”

“No? Not even for me?” he asks, feeling a bit desperate now that he’s got the idea in his head. Marinette wet _and_ naked? It’s a welcome distraction to all of the other things she’d been throwing at him today.

“Well, if we’re talking _that_ kind of wet, then maybe I might have a surprise for you when you get out of the shower.”

Adrien’s ears prick up at the thought. He could wait for his surprise surely, but what if he just brought the surprise to him? He appraises his situation before ultimately throwing caution to the wind, a catlike smirk stretching across his features, “I don’t want to wait.”

“Too bad because— _eep!”_

Hauling her up and over his shoulder, Adrien doesn’t pay any heed to the pounding fists on his back or the caterwauling in his ear as he walks them both through the threshold of the bathroom and kicks the door shut behind him. She’s still hollering threats but he tunes them out by admiring her ass in the reflection, propped up just beside his head, her short skirt leaving little to the imagination as her kicking exposes her bare thighs and just a hint of the pale pink panties she’s wearing underneath. He doesn’t usually assert his strength quite like this but this is something that’s been niggling at the back of his mind ever since they both made up for the most part.

“Put! Me! Down!”

“Nope,” Adrien replies, popping his lips on the final syllable. Anchoring her with his right arm, he undoes his jeans with his free hand and lets them drop to the ground, keeping an eye on that glorious ass of hers just wriggling to get free. He doesn’t have to be a visionary to imagine what she would look like naked like this, her bare cheeks and slick lips squirming as his fingers travel up the back of her knees towards the hem of her skirt.

“What are you doing?” she growls from behind him but Adrien can’t keep his eyes off of her reflection, not with the way he’s flicked her skirt up to expose those panties of hers with the little white hearts. As cute as they are, he’d rather just rip them off.

Whoa.

Now there’s a thought.

(Where’s his claws when he needs them?)

Unable to do much else in terms of undressing, Adrien finally drops her onto her feet and crowds her against the sink, trapping her between his outstretched arms, “I like those panties. I’d like them even better on the floor.”

“And I’d like you to get better pick up lines,” she replies with a pout, pushing on his elbows to try and escape. He doesn’t give in and she tries to sneak under his arms but he catches her instead, snatching her wrists and pinning them to the marble counter, “Let me go.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he asks, leaning down to press a kiss against her jugular, his teeth grazing her skin like a warning and Marinette shivers at the touch, “I’d much rather you stay here with me.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“I’ll convince you,” he rasps in her ear, his grip tightening on her wrists. Using his knee, he urges her legs apart and leans in closer, rubbing his burgeoning erection against her abdomen, “I want you here.”

He can tell Marinette wants to respond but he’s keeping her lips far too busy with his own as he releases one of her wrists and lets his fingers explore the curves of her thighs beneath her skirt, skimming the sensitive skin just below her panties. He prods her legs a little farther apart and hooks his index finger in the fabric, yanking it roughly to the side.

_“Ah!”_

Her lips aren’t quite as damp and as swollen as he’d like, but he’s more than willing to amend that situation quickly, slipping his finger along the seam of her slit back and forth until her breaths become a little more ragged, a little more hungry. She’s growing more pliant by the second and he gently brushes her clit as a reward, grinning against her lips as she shudders against him.

“I don’t like being bossed around you know,” she murmurs as he devours that little spot on her neck that makes her weak everytime, and the wrecked tone of her voice totally belies her statement. He pulls away just slightly and looks up, making eye contact through his lashes with a wicked, Chat-like smile.

“Liar.”

“I am not a liar,” she argues, her face suitably affronted as Adrien shakes his head and stops his ministrations.

“Yes you are,” Adrien’s fingers slip out from under her panties and begin to toy with the elastic once again, “Admit it, you like it when I take control sometimes.”

“No I don’t,” Marinette contends and Adrien knows she’s just being difficult.

“Yes you do,” he sing songs, grazing her lips with the promise of a kiss as he touches her everywhere except where she wants him most, “Remember that time with the tie? When I had to blindfold you because you had forgotten your mask?”

Marinette stiffens with a gasp as Adrien suddenly presses his thumb to her clit against her panties, “Or that time I fucked you against the wall?”

He keeps stroking her, pressing just hard enough to keep her rooted against him, “Because I do, in case you were wondering. I think about it sometimes, how it felt to be the boss for once.”

Pulling back, Adrien takes a look at the stubborn mess before him, her cheeks flushed, her brows drawn together in the scowl of a person whose been suitably called out on their bullshit. Adrien makes that face all the time in therapy and it’s nice to see someone else realise they’re being an obstinate idiot; if anything, it makes him even hungrier to tear her clothes off and have his way with her in the shower.

“Well?”

Marinette’s lips curl into a spectacular pout, “Fine.”

Adrien grins, “You’ll have shower sex with me?”

“Yes,” she sighs in resignation, as if she hadn’t just been teased senseless a moment before, “I guess I’ll get wet for you.”

“I think I’ve already managed to do that,” he replies wickedly and she rolls her eyes, rolling her wrists once he’s let her go. He turns and pulls on the tap of the walk-in shower, glancing briefly at the ceiling as the rain head trickles to life. He peers over his shoulder as Marinette carefully folds her shirt and sets it on the countertop, her cheeks still flushed from their earlier discussion, and Adrien wonders vaguely why she’s suddenly being so self-conscious, “You know, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“It’s fine,” she responds automatically, still avoiding his gaze, “I just...sometimes it’s confusing when you get…”

Adrien shifts his weight to one side and raises his palms, “Like I said, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can back off.”

“No, it’s okay,” she reassures him, fiddling with the folded shirt, “Do you um...what you said before. Do you really think about that?”

“About what?”

“About...being the boss.”

Adrien inhales quickly and tries to force away the sudden burst of arousal at her words, “Honestly? Yes. Especially lately.”

She finally turns to face him, her eyes both wide and curious, “Why lately?”

He shrugs, “I’m in control of my own life now and...it feels good. Really good, like...I can’t even describe how good it feels to be able to do what I want. I guess I want to try that with you too.”

“Yeah?” the flush on her face comes back in full force, her thighs rubbing together in a subtle rhythm that he picks up on immediately, “I guess we could try.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, looking a little more assured as she pushes her skirt off her hips, “Yes, so let’s start. We’re wasting water.”

“I thought I was the one giving orders now,” he replies with a smirk, watching intently as she undoes her bra and rests it on top of her shirt. He’s already shed his clothes by the time she finally lets her panties fall to the tiles and he yanks her beneath the spray without further ado, soaking them both in the warm water falling gently from above.

There’s a brief fight for the soap but Adrien manages to wrestle it from her clutches and soothes the sting of defeat with a lather, thoroughly covering her body in the suds. Pressing her palms against the marble tiles with a huff, he pays special attention to her thighs, her calves, her ankles, brushing his fingers between her thighs as he bends to massage the soap against her skin, gently kneading her with his hands. Adrien takes full advantage of the view, pressing a cheeky kiss to her ass before finding himself completely enamoured, spreading his palms all along her pale skin and relishing in the little shudders she makes as his thumbs occasionally find their way between her cleft, sensitive and altogether tempting, but not what he has in mind for now.

He straightens and moves upwards, his hardening cock pressing insistently at the small of her back as he anchors her against the wall, kneading her soapy breasts until she’s keening, her head falling back onto his chest, eyes closed and mouth parted. Her hair is slicked back and he’s never seen her quite like this before as she grinds against him, urging him for more. He’d usually indulge her but he’s got much more insistent plans as he latches onto the same tender spot on her throat and sucks hard, hoping to leave a lasting mark as a reminder of their lovemaking for the next few days.

“Adrien,” she breathes, reaching back to find his hands again but Adrien simply grabs them and forces them against the shower wall, drawing one of her Miraculous between his teeth. Pinned, she turns her head and he meets her lips, her kiss growing more and more frantic as Adrien continues to press himself against her, her breasts squashed against the freezing tile. She gasps for breath and he takes the moment to pin both of her wrists with one hand, freeing the other to begin its sinful path downwards again, languidly trailing at a pace that has her openly protesting until he silences her with another kiss, this one far more smug than the last. He takes his time, teasing her entrance but even he has his limits as she thrusts her ass out at him, practically begging between each kiss and mewl and Adrien can’t hold out any longer, sliding a finger into her slick pussy.

“Fuck,” she groans in relief as he pumps them in and out quickly, twisting his wrist with each and every stroke. He keeps up the rapid pace and Marinette draws her lip between her teeth and lets her forehead fall forwards with an audible clunk as the pressure builds, too much and not enough, “Please.”

“Please what?” he urges her on, nibbling on junction of her shoulder as he adds another finger and Marinette’s eyes jerk open with a heaving gasp.

“Touch me…”

Two can play at this game, “I already am. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Marinette curses under her breath and although Adrien is well aware of what she wants, he’s dying to hear her say it, “Make me come.”

Adrien grins against her neck and bites down, earning him a muffled scream, “Say the magic word.”

_“Please.”_

“As you wish,” he murmurs, reaching around to touch her clit and the way she reacts is positively worth the extra effort, her entire body writhing against the wall as he circles the bundle of nerves at a furious rhythm, relentless and hard just the way she likes. He knows she’s close by the way her voice changes in pitch and Adrien can’t wait to watch her lose it, sandwiched and trapped, all his and no one else's.

 _Especially_ not that Sacha kid.

Ooooh, and if the thought of that doesn’t make his blood boil, he doesn't know what does. Perhaps he should suck another hickey into her skin just to make sure her charming coworker knows she belongs to him? One will hardly do and he acts on the raging impulse to mark her as she comes with abandon against his hand, shrieking into the marble as he doubles down on her clit and leaves another red and purple bruise on her skin.

Gasping, Marinette slowly sinks to the tile floor and that’s exactly where he wants her, his cock flaring with the way she’s slouched in relief, drawing ragged breaths of air into her lungs. She’s flushed and gorgeous and soaking wet and he has to palm himself to try and relieve some of the building pressure, the heat at the base of his spine growing almost unbearable, especially as she opens her eyes and blinks with languid realisation, her gaze narrowing in on his shaft.

“Well?” he says and her eyes snap up to meet his, his heart thudding at the prospect of the reaction he’ll get when he parrots her words back to her, “Let’s get started, we’re wasting water.”

Her jaw drops.

 _“Merde,”_ she mutters, her cheeks turning bright red as she circles his slick cockhead with her fingertips, trailing them down his shaft to find their usual grip around his base. He’s practically ready to come already just from her response alone, and he nearly has an aneurysm when a drop of pre-come drips down his upturned cock and she manages to catch it with her tongue right before the water washes it away.

Well _fuck._

His cock jerks in her grasp as if it’s urging her to hurry up and just get on with it and Marinette seems to get the hint, sucking his cock into her mouth with a sound so positively wicked that Adrien has to close his eyes just to keep himself from orgasming right then and there. Rolling her tongue round his cockhead, she slides her lips down his shaft and pauses only once he’s hit the back of her throat, recoiling quickly and bobbing her head with a quick and ruthless rhythm. He wanted quick and he’s getting exactly what he asked for as she swirls her tongue around his head with every upstroke, and the heat and the slickness of her mouth and the steaming water bearing down on him driving him to insanity. How did she get so damn good at this?

A thousand and one heat induced blowjobs last spring come to mind.

He’s glad they don’t have to wear the masks anymore and _god_ , what is she doing with her fingers now? It’s _something_ , whatever it is, and he tries not to buck his hips into her throat but he can hardly control himself any longer, the pressure and the tempo and the hot wet heat of her tongue pushing him to his breaking point. He’s shaking before he knows it, the muscles of his thighs clenching in tandem with the rush of blood in his ears and it feels so _so_ good and he tells her just as much, crying her name as he comes in hot pulses inside of her.

His fingers buried in her hair, he pries his eyes open just in time to see his come flowing down her chin, spraying on her lips and neck and chest and _poutain de merde_ , something shorts in his brain because the next thing he knows, he’s sprawled out on the marble tile next to her, boneless and exhausted and utterly spent.

They get clean somehow. He wouldn’t be able to recount exactly how it went but she’d somehow managed to shampoo his hair and he’d somehow managed to turn the water off and wrap them both in fluffy towels, dry for the most part. She drags him to bed and he follows without protest as she crawls in and he flops facefirst beside her afterwards, moaning into the sheets because _wow._

_Wow._

So now he knows why Marinette loves being in control so much, because that?

That felt _good._  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protip: Shower sex is slippery and may lead to injuries. Don't make my mistakes shower!sex virgins. 
> 
> Thank you for _coming_ to my TED Talk.
> 
> Next week we get back to the Chloé/Adrien bromance! Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	11. Week 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sinners. Sorry for the long wait. Life gave me more lemons than I could contend with in the last few weeks and I gave into some demons. I haven't been able to write in weeks and I barely managed to get my ML Secret Santa done (and I'm ashamed of it honestly, it's not very good) so I'm just a bit of a mess at the moment. Good thing my best friends Red Wine and Vodka are here to keep me company!
> 
> Needless to say, I wrote this chapter about a month ago and it's actually my favourite. I love the Adrien/Chloé bromance and its potential. In this case, it's a major plot chapter that will set up the rest of the story. Enjoy!

_[Week 8]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Messy]_   
_[Posture: Alert]_   
_[Attitude: Cooperative]_   
_[Mood: Relaxed]_

“You got in without me?!”

Soaking wet, Adrien emerges from the deep end of the rooftop pool of _La Grande Paris_ and stretches luxuriously, heedless to Chloé’s impatient toe tapping, “Sorry, but it’s the first time I’ve been able to swim in days.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t blame you,” Chloé sets her bag down on the nearest lounger and heaves a sigh, glancing around her, “The rain and humidity has been atrocious, I can’t stand it any longer. I mean, I can’t even go out in public with my hair looking the way it is. Ughh...”

Adrien doesn’t notice anything different about her hairstyle but he’s not about to say anything about it, “I’m getting sick of being stuck inside.”

“At least you have nowhere to go,” Chloé moans, collapsing onto her preferred daybed, “I’ve had to go to classes and meetings. I hate it.”

“Yeah? How are your classes going?”

“It’s a waste of my precious time,” Chloé throws her sunglasses off and drapes her forearm over her eyes in despair, “I should be out with Papa learning about politics, not sitting in a classroom listening to an old man read from a textbook.”

Adrien shrugs and slips back into the water, propping his arms up against the concrete sides of the pool to stay afloat, “At least you’ve got something to do.”

“I’ve already told you a hundred times Adrien, you have plenty of things to do. You can come to parties with me, you can come to Wine and Canvas with me, you can finally take me up on my offer and come to the French Riviera with me this Wednesday and sunbathe on my yacht. The possibilities are endless if you would just stop worrying about what people think of you all the time.”

“I can’t just leave Paris during the investigation,” Adrien frowns, brushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. He hadn’t actually asked his lawyer if he could take Chloé up on her invitation to go to Saint-Tropez with her the day after tomorrow, but he’d already assumed that he wouldn’t be allowed.

“Yes you can,” Chloé rolls onto her stomach and smirks at him, “I already asked Papa and he looked into it. As long as you don’t leave the country, you’re safe to travel anywhere you like. In fact, Papa already added you to the flight itinerary.”

“Really?” Adrien blinks.

“Really. You’re going on vacation with me and you’re going to have the time of your life. Unlimited food, dancing, shopping, Champagne—”

“Ooh, what about that wine you ordered me the other day that I really liked?”

Chloé’s smile only grows wider, “Oh, the _Château Pichon-Longueville Baron 1996_? I already have two cases waiting on board for you.”

“I...actually?”

“Of course,” Chloé turns up her nose, “I’m your bestest best friend in the entire world. If you’re going on vacation with me, you’re going to party in style, no exceptions.”

Adrien hardly knows what to make of this, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m _always_ sure.”

“I...I don’t know what to say. Thank you Chloé,” Adrien shakes his head a little, “I just, I have to make sure it’s okay with Marinette first.”

“Ughh….” Chloé groans at the sound of her least favourite person’s name, “You don’t need to ask permission Adrichou. She’s just your girlfriend, somehow. How that happened is beyond me but, you know, I’ll tolerate it. For now.”

As always, Adrien takes his friend’s disgust in stride, “Still, I need to let her know that I’ll be away for a week.”

“Wasn’t she just on vacation herself? Not that I pay attention to her schedule at all, because that would be _ridiculous_ , but I remember because you spent those entire five days moping on my couch with me whinging about how much you miss her.”

“I did _not_ mope,” Adrien gives her a hard look, “And I know she won’t say no, but telling the people you love that you’re going on vacation is a thing you’re supposed to do when you’re in a relationship.”

“So much effort,” Chloé sighs, “I don’t know how you people do it.”

“It’s easier than you think,” he says with a shrug, “You just have to be willing to compromise.”

Chloé snorts, “Compromise? That’s not even a word in my vocabulary. It’s my way or the highway, or else.”

“And maybe one day you’ll find someone that’s okay being treated like that,” Adrien replies, grimacing at the very notion, “But the relationship between Marinette and I is based on communication.”

“This positively kills me to ask but...ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Chloé sits up and begins slathering sun lotion on herself with a disgusted look, “But how are you two? And I’m only asking because the other day you complained that she was being a bitch and I want an excuse to punch her.”

“I did _not_ call her a bitch,” Adrien corrects her tersely, watching as she takes off her sundress to reveal a lemon yellow bikini underneath, “I was just complaining about her mood, that’s all. She’s been kind of grouchy since it started raining so much.”

“I don’t blame her,” Chloé curls her upper lip in disdain, “I’ve been positively appalled by it, not to mention how cold it’s been, and the bugs. _Ugh_ , I hate it. There are mosquitos everywhere.”

“Right? It’s awful, and I know I haven’t exactly been M. Sunshine lately either, but I wish I could do something to make her happier.”

Chloé raises a curious brow, “How?”

“Well, she’s been kind of mad at me for a little while,” Adrien begins, wringing his hands together, “I let her down and she’s still not really over it. Marinette never holds a grudge but this is different and with all of this crappy weather and her apprenticeship, she’s just really stressed out all the time.”

“How can she possibly be mad at you? You’ve literally been dealing with the worst situation in the entire history of the world.”

Adrien winces, “I deserve this one, and she’s not mad at me about that. She’s been nothing but supportive when it comes to stuff about my fath...Gabriel.”

“Oooh,” Chloé teases, “You’re there already? It took me years to start calling my mother Audrey, but only because Papa gets mad when I call her _La Salope_.”

Adrien bursts into laughter, “You actually call her that?”

“Obviously,” Chloé sneers, checking her manicure briefly, “She’s a heinous bitch and has been nothing but awful to me. My mother may not be an actual terrorist but she might as well be. She’s ruined a lot of people’s lives and I hate her.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Adrien concedes, his own hatred for his father welling up in his chest, “My therapist said it was okay to hate him, but I try not to think about it too much.”

“Good thing you have another month until the trial starts.”

“Yeah…” Adrien trails off and takes a deep breath, “I submitted my witness account yesterday for the preliminary hearing, but they’re already forming the jury since they know it’s going to trial.”

“You didn’t have to go to court?”

“I asked my lawyer if I could Skype in so I didn’t have to be in the same room as him,” Adrien murmurs, “I still don’t want to see him yet.”

“Good. He shouldn’t even be allowed out of his jail cell,” Chloé huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, “Was Ladybug there?”

Adrien nods, “Ladybug is always there.”

“Of course she is,” Chloé finally gets up from her daybed and stretches in the increasingly rare July sunshine, “I watch the news all the time to stay up to date on current affairs or what not, and I’ve noticed that she’s pretty much around constantly. Do you think this is her way of coping? Being transformed all the time?”

“Huh?

Chloé leans over conspiratorially, “Haven’t you read the LadyBlog lately? Ladybug’s been spotted visiting the hospital _three_ times this week. There’s a rumour that Chat Noir has been hospitalised this entire time after the Eiffel Tower incident.”

Adrien purses his lips, “I’m sure that’s not true. He’s probably just retired, like I said.”

“Oh, I know what you’ve said and I don’t believe it because I am her number one fan, I _know_ pining when I see it. She misses him! They’re in love Adrichou, and she’s heartsick without him. She’s just like my Papa, see? When _La Salope_ left him for New York City, he threw himself into politics and now he’s the greatest mayor of all time! He’s even thinking about running for President! And it was all because he was heartbroken.”

Adrien is about to disagree when...well… “Do you really think that’s why?”

“Well, why else would she be patrolling all the time?” Chloé responds matter-of-factly, “She doesn’t _have_ to be transformed every single day, but she chooses to just like Papa. He would make himself sick working so hard but eventually his love for me won out and he got better. Papa says that working makes him forget _La Salope,_ even if it makes him too tired to do anything else.”

“Oh,” Adrien swallows uncomfortably, “That makes sense actually.”

“Of course it does, everything I say makes sense,” Chloé replies indignantly, “Now, can you help me put tanning lotion on my back? I want to look positively radiant when we visit Saint-Tropez. Those peasants won’t know what hit them.” 

~

_“Monsieur?.....Oui, j’aimerais cinq morceaux de Camembert...oui, comme toujours….et un verre de vin s’il te plait...Château Pichon-Longueville Baron 1996?...Ah, merci beaucoup!”_

~

“So.”

“So.”

Adrien sits on his hotel room balcony and holds the second piece of Camembert cheese aloft in one hand, swishing the wine in this glass with the other, “I have a question for you.”

Plagg narrows his eyes, “I hate questions.”

“Which is why I’ll throw this cheese over the railing if you don’t answer,” Adrien replies flatly, resting his hand over the edge, “Your choice.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

Adrien takes a long draw from his glass and savours the silken mouthfeel of the Bordeaux red, “Was Chloé right today?”

Plagg frowns, “About what?”

“About Ladybug overworking herself as a distraction.”

“I don’t know,” the little god shrugs nonchalantly, “Ask her yourself.”

Unblinkingly, Adrien tosses the cheese off the ledge with a casual flick of his wrist, “Next question.”

Slack jawed and reeling, Plagg brings his paw to his chest and gasps, _“Did you just throw that Coulommiers Rouzaire off the balcony?!”_

“I sure did,” Adrien responds, managing his straight face act perfectly now that he has a bit of wine in his system, “And there’s three more pieces where that came from. So I’ll ask you again, is Ladybug overworking herself as a distraction because of me?”

Plagg’s mouth gapes open and closed several times, “How would I know? I’m not Ladybug’s kwami.”

Adrien picks up another slice and prepares to drop it again, “I hope the street rats like Camembert.”

“Wait!” Plagg holds his paws up, “Fine! Yes! Maybe Tikki has said something about transforming too much to me.”

“Just maybe?” Adrien loosens his grip on the cheese ever so slightly just to watch Plagg flail spectacularly.

“Okay! Okay, she did! She told me!”

“See? Was that so hard?” Adrien hands him the slice and smirks, “Now, I have two more slices left. Care to answer one more question?”

Plagg harrumphs around his mouthful of cheese and Adrien takes that as a yes, “Is Marinette going to hurt herself or Tikki if she keeps transforming too much?”

The little god of destruction takes his time finishing his cheese and visibly deflates at the question, “Yes and no. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened.”

“No?” Adrien leans in curiously, “What happened then?”

“Give me the cheese and I’ll tell you.”

“Fine,” Adrien offers him the slice, “Go on.”

“Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir, yin and yang. Balance is kind of our thing.”

“So?”

“So what do you think will happen if one transformed too much and the other stopped transforming entirely?”

Adrien mulls on the question for several moments, “An imbalance?”

At Plagg’s long suffering sigh, Adrien gets the feeling he's being mocked, “Obviously, and the longer it goes on, the harder it is to fix.”

“I transformed when we saved Nooroo and when I went to Marinette’s house two weeks ago,” Adrien explains with a shrug, taking another sip of wine, “I’m still around.”

“ _We’re_ still around, but we’re not active,” Plagg corrects him, crossing his paws over his chest, “It’s hard to explain.”

“No, I get it,” Adrien leans back in his chair and gazes at the brilliant Parisian nightscape, “You’re telling me that if Ladybug keeps transforming and I don’t, things will become imbalanced.”

Plagg clears his throat and Adrien swears he hears him mutter something beneath his breath, “Pretty much kid. Now, are we done here? I want my cheese.”

“Yeah, we’re done,” Adrien hands him the last slice and Plagg devours it loudly but Adrien is already lost in his own thoughts. He’d have to talk to Marinette about it once he got back from Saint-Tropez. She’d agreed that getting out of Paris and doing something fun would do him good even if it didn’t look like she was all that excited to see him go. If anything, she was the one that needed some sunlight; she was looking more pale than she’d ever looked before.

“I’ll figure it out later,” Adrien murmurs, finishing off the last of his wine.

~

When Adrien boards Mayor Bourgeoise’s private jet after a week basking in the French Riviera sunshine, he can honestly admit to Chloé that this had been exactly what he’d needed. He’s warm and relaxed and gloriously tanned to perfection... _god_ , he looks good. Marinette wouldn’t be able to resist him looking like this, all golden and glittery from the lotion Chloé gave him to get his glow on. He takes a look at his reflection in one of the plane’s windows and soaks himself in; the tan, the smile, the hair that's nearly grown down to his shoulders. Chloé has his bangs pinned back with a hair clip and it's honestly not a bad look, but what does is matter? He wasn't in Saint-Tropez to flirt or to attract other women, even if several of them had thrown themselves on him all throughout the week. The sunglasses, the shaggy hair and the fact that Chloé only ever called him Adrichou certainly helped; not a single person recognised him as the son of a national criminal.

It was _perfect_.

“Best vacation ever,” Adrien flops into one of the luxurious leather seats and grins widely, enjoying the coolness of the texture against his skin. He still hasn't put a shirt on yet. Why bother? He's on vacation until the plane touches down in Paris after all.

“I told you it would be amazing,” Chloé replies, sipping on her tenth (eleventh?) Champagne cocktail of the day, “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Plenty of times, but not in this case. This was perfect. Thank you.”

Chloé nods and doesn't argue. The past week had been good for both of them but nothing had improved quite as much as their friendship. He'd learned more about her than he'd ever expected to (after years of flirting exclusively with him, who would have thought that Chloé would have eyes for women too?) and she'd learned a lot about him as well. They’d talked about love and loss and sex and food and everything in between while they basked in the sun for hours, diving into the Mediterranean now and then to cool off. She’d learned that he’d become borderline obsessed with writing in his notebook and miraculously, she didn't tease him about it. He’d learned that she ranted daily on Whisper because now that Sabrina had moved to Lyon with her mother, she had no one else to vent at.

They’d laughed and cried together but mostly, they’d just relaxed. She’d drank Champagne and he’d drank wine and together, they ate their weight in seafood platters and exotic fruits. They’d gotten manicures and pedicures together and partied on shore until his feet were numb from dancing all night long and the sun had peaked over the horizon. That morning, they'd slept in a pile on her bed until 14h and had fought their hangovers with smoothies and dips in the hot tub until Adrien could finally crack his eyes open properly, and even then he could hardly focus until 18h when Chloé had dragged him back onto land for a quick visit to her favourite boutique. She’d bought a dress and he’d bought a floral chemise that he knew would look beautiful against the vibrant blues of Marinette’s eyes. Even Chloé had approved, which had been a miracle unto itself, and when they’d gotten back to the yacht, he snapped her a photo of the bag and she'd gone crazy with excited emojis on the other side.

The only two girls in his life he actually cares about were happy, and honestly? The thought alone makes him happy too.

Problem is, Adrien knows he should never take anything for granted.

Problem is, when he and Chloé touch down on the private landing strip at Charles du Gaulle airport, there's a crowd of reporters waiting there too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and sticking by me as I continue delving into this world. But for now, I just plan on drinking some more.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	12. Week 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Thank you for those of you who wished me well...life's still being a bitch, but at least I was able to sit down this week and do a bit of writing. My own tumultuous life is really reflected in this chapter; Adrien's emotions are all over the place. Mad, sad, furious, happy, sarcastic, lustful...he's a ping pong ball of feelings and it shows!
> 
> This chapter features a power referenced in the Miraculous Ladybug Concept Art book. Click the link if you want to see the photo I drew inspiration from below!

[Black Hole Concept Art](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lady-bug/images/e/ec/Cat_Noir_Black_Storm_and_Black_Hole_concept_art.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20171017203914)

_[Week 9]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Unkempt]_   
_[Posture: Alert]_   
_[Attitude: Aggressive]_   
_[Mood: Spasmodic]_

The second their jet touches down at Charles de Gaulle Airport, Chloé is already tearing her security detail a new one over the phone, demanding what the hell is going on. Adrien doesn't know what to do in the wake of the veritable ocean of reporters and paparazzi waiting for him on the tarmac outside, snapping photos and hollering over the engines as if he could hear them through the fuselage.

“If you don’t get those filthy little bottom feeders off of **MY** tarmac **right now** , I can assure you that the next time your union’s collective agreement comes up for bargaining, I will make it my personal mission to fire each and every one of you!”

Adrien shirks back from the window and reminds himself not to piss Chloé off in the near future, “Isn't that illegal?”

“ **THIS** is illegal!” Chloé gestures wildly as their jet begins to taxi along the runway towards the private hangers, “How did they get this close? Where are the police?”

Pushing himself to his feet, Adrien makes his way to the front of the plane and slips in beside the pilot as Chloé continues to shriek at the ground crew, “Do you know what's going on?”

“Inside job probably,” the Bourgeoise's pilot replies, his lips curled in revulsion, “Have you googled yourself lately? That should answer the why.”

Adrien sighs and turns his phone off of airplane mode only to be completely hammered by messages, tweets and voicemails. He checks his texts first and cringes at the message in all caps.

Mme. Fiable  
CALL ME IMMEDIATELY

“ _Merde_ ,” Adrien swears under his breath and checks Marinette's message next.

Marinette  
You're not going to believe what your father's lawyer just did.  
It's bad Adrien. REALLY bad.  
Check the news ASAP.

“ _Merde merde merde_ ,” Adrien continues to mutter, his stomach leaping into his throat. What the hell was going on? “Siri, search Adrien Agreste.”

_Oh shit._

_Oh no._

_“Gabriel Agreste's lawyer confirms! Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir!”_

~

When he looks back on this moment, he'll be the first to admit it wasn't his finest. He wants to make excuses and blame his father, the security, the media, whoever, but Docteur Renée’s little voice in his head reminds him of the very simple fact that no one is responsible for his actions except himself.

That being said, could anyone really blame him for losing his cool at the media and swearing on live television?

Definitely not.

The headlines are already rolling in as they tear out of the airport in the Bourgeoise limousine towards _La Grande Paris_ and they’re damning, for lack of a better word. _“Is Adrien Agreste Losing It?” “Former Teen Model Furious at Media Backlash!” “Agreste Meltdown at CDG!”_ Adrien slams his phone into the cushion and thunks his head against the limousine’s window, angry and sad and every emotion in between. How the hell did his father’s lawyer figure it out? _Did_ he even figure it out? What proof did he find?

Time to call his lawyer.

“Fiable and Fiable, how may I direct your call?”

“It's Adrien Agreste.”

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line, “I'll transfer you over immediately. Hold on.”

The line goes dead for a moment before Mme. Fiable's voice comes over loud and strong, “Adrien, we have a major situation.”

“I know,” Adrien grumbles, glaring at the outer banlieues as they continue to speed down the freeway, “I just yelled at the paparazzi, I'm trending on every social media outlet and somehow, the whole of Paris is convinced I’m Chat Noir? Please tell me you figured out how my father's lawyer jumped to that conclusion.”

Mme. Fiable sighs audibly over the receiver, “That slimy excuse of a human is grasping at straws. He says he has proof but he's not sharing it publicly, which is ridiculous. Apparently your father mentioned that he suspected you of the moniker and M. Ledroit was able to pay a few policemen off to get access to the security tapes to the mansion.”

Adrien swallows uncomfortably, “Chat Noir and Ladybug were at the mansion hundreds of times over the years.”

“Exactly,” Mme. Fiable replies, “So I'm not so worried about that as I am about what he's trying to do to your reputation. If I didn't know any better, I’d say that he was trying to make you look like a liar that can't be trusted in a court of law.”

In a twisted, horrible way, Adrien can see the sense of it, “So what do I do?”

“Stay out of the spotlight as much as you can,” Mme. Fiable instructs him, “And I know this may sound crazy, but we need to find some proof that you're not Chat Noir. I don't know how yet, but give me some time and I'll figure it out.”

“What about the time Chat Noir saved me from my akumatised bodyguard?”

“That was years ago. We need something more recent to stand up against Ledroit's claims. I'll ask Ladybug when I see her at court tomorrow. Maybe she can convince Chat Noir to come out of hiding for a photo op.”

Adrien visibly cringes at the very thought, “Okay. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will, just keep your phone on you always. And once you get back to _La Grande Paris_ , don't leave your room, not even for a moment. Visitors come to you, food comes to you, everything comes to you. If this weasel was able to pull enough strings to get a throng of paparazzi on the tarmac of an international airport just to mess with you, he can find other ways to undermine you too. Understood?”

“Understood,” Adrien replies, rolling his Miraculous around his finger. He catches the lightning quick flash of green in his eyes in the window’s reflection and pulls his lips into a thin line.

~

It stopped raining an hour ago but Adrien is still hesitant to even open the doors of his balcony, entirely conscious of the horde of media still swarming the streets and neighbouring buildings around _La Grande Paris_. He can't leave his hotel room through the regular door because of the cameras in the hallways and he can't leave his room from the balcony because of the media will obviously catch him as Chat Noir and he says as much to Plagg, flopping spectacularly face first into his duvet.

“I'm going to die here,” he mutters, squashing his face into the silk, “I'll never see Marinette or anyone else ever again.”

Plagg is suspiciously silent, which is rarely a good sign, but Adrien's own woes are far more pressing at the moment. How would he go to see Docteur Renée? What about his family dinners with the Dupain-Cheng’s? His weekly movie night with Nino? His workouts in the pool? He was just starting to get a hold of his life! He was finally making decisions for himself! He was in control! And now he's right back where he started, confined to his bedroom like he was as a child because of his _stupid, selfish father!_

“Fuck this.”

Adrien pushes himself off his bed and pulls the blinds across the windows in case of peering eyes, his hackles rising. He begins to pace, the gently simmering rage of a few hours ago returning to a rolling boil under his skin and through his limbs, cloying and overwhelmingly heavy; he's not just going to go down without a fight, not when he'd just had his very first taste of what it was like to be free from under his father's thumb.

The more he paces, the more he realises that this is exactly what his father would have wanted. Isn’t it obvious? Of course it's why his father didn't mention his “suspicions” earlier about Chat Noir. He _wanted_ Adrien to taste freedom only to have it torn away, he _wanted_ him to find the happiness only to be shuttered back into his gilded cage! It's just another one of his stupid control tactics, as Docteur Renée would say, especially now that his therapist had more or less shed an entire sun’s worth of light on what his father had been doing to him all along. Classic case of emotional neglect, she'd said, on top of physical isolation; he wishes he could tell her what was happening to him now but he suspects she already knows, not that he'll ever see her again if this keeps up…

“Will you knock it off? I can hear you thinking from over here.”

Adrien turns his head and spies Plagg hovering near the door of the bathroom, bizarrely out of place, “Would you rather I complained out loud? Because I can do that.”

Plagg rolls his eyes, “That would be even worse.”

“Then let me suffer in peace. My life is over.”

“Not exactly…”

Adrien turns back towards the little god hovering by the doorway, “What do you mean, not exactly?”

Plagg looks distinctly at odds with himself which is usually a sign that Adrien is about to get more than he bargained for, “Well…”

“...is a deep subject. Keep going.”

The stubborn kwami sticks out his tongue, “I may have an idea.”

“Yeah? What?”

“I'm not telling you until you feed me.”

“Seriously?” Adrien cocks an eyebrow, “We just got back from Saint-Tropez two hours ago, there's no food in the fridge.”

Plagg crosses his paws over his chest, “Then I'm not telling.”

“Whatever,” Adrien grouses back, slipping his duvet down so he can pull the sheets back properly. Tossing his shirt and jeans into the corner, he crawls back into bed without a second glance at the creature behind him gawking in outrage at the very notion that his clever baiting didn't get him what he wanted, “Good night.”

Adrien turns off the lamp and settles his head into the pillows with a sigh, wrapping his arms around his chest. He’s played the waiting game before with Plagg, he certainly has all the time in the world now to play it again...

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine,” the little kwarmi huffs, zooming over Adrien’s bed and settling a few centimetres in front of his face, “It’s called Trou Noir.”

Adrien’s eyes widen, “What?”

“You didn’t really think that Cataclysme was your only power did you?” Plagg grumbles, tugging on his whiskers, “This one is much more useful.”

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Adrien murmurs in shock, pushing himself into a seated position, “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“You didn’t need it yet,” Plagg responds with a small shrug, “You’re no stranger to Paris, so why would you use it?”

“Why would I use it?” Adrien tucks his feet beneath him and scowls, “ _Any_ extra power would have made fighting akumas a lot easier, don’t you think?”

“Don’t be so sarcastic.”

“Kettle? Black."

“Do you want out of this hotel room or not?”

Adrien glares at the tiny god before him, “Fine. What does Trou Noir do?”

“Exactly what it says on the tin,” Plagg points out, vaguely unimpressed, “It takes the same energy as Cataclysme and makes a black hole out of it.”

“A black hole? Like...in space?”

Plagg raises a brow, “Well, where else would you find a black hole?”

“Oh,” Adrien leans back, bracing his upper body on his arms, “So how does making a black hole get us out of here?”

“You decide where the black hole goes,” Plagg explains simply, licking one of his paws, “You jump in and end up anywhere you want.”

“Anywhere I want?”

“Within reason,” Plagg responds, “It takes too much energy to go farther than a few kilometres.”

“Then let’s hope Marinette has some cheese in her fridge,” Adrien snatches his phone off his bedside table and sends her a quick message, “So all I have to do it say Trou Noir, touch the floor, and jump in?”

“Make sure you’re focusing on where you want to go,” Plagg warns him, “Or else you’ll end up half here and half there.”

Adrien pulls a face, “Ew.”

“Yeah, it’s not pretty,” Plagg shudders and floats down to settle on Adrien’s hand, “Well? The sooner we get to Marinette’s, the sooner I can eat.”

Adrien shakes his head fondly, “Transforme-moi!”

The crackle of lightning and the effervescent sizzle of dark, white hot magic surges from his toes to his ears in the most addictive of ways. Shuddering, Chat takes a peek at himself in the mirror beside his closet door and smirks just a little because while Ledroit may be out to get him, Saint-Tropez had done him _good_.  

Tall, tanned and handsome doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it.

“Alright,” Chat glances down at his right hand and eyes his ring curiously, “Let’s give this a go. Trou Noir!”

Static electricity surges through the veins of his hand and settles in his palm, the tingling sensation punctuated by little black bubbles of magic that float up and pop like dish suds in the air. The magic itself feels heavier than Cataclysme and certainly more tangible in his fingertips as he bends down on one knee and focuses on the floor in Marinette’s bedroom, somewhere right in the middle of her pink rug so he doesn’t end up smashing his head against the top of her desk. He envisions it in his mind’s eye, the details of the floor and the fabric, the smell of freshly baked bread in the air and the taste of her lip gloss on his tongue.

He presses his hand to the carpet of his bedroom and watches in awe as a platter sized black hole appears in the floor.

After gaping at it for a solid twenty seconds, Chat gets the distinct feeling that Plagg is trying to push him in from the back of his thoughts and Chat does his best to ignore him for the moment, snatching his mobile from his bed and a change of clothes from his closet before settling at the edge of the swirling mass again. Should he sit down and stick his legs in first? Should he dive? If he jumps in feet first, will he come out upside down? There’s a myriad of questions running through his head before he settles on the first option and sits down, dipping one of his boots into the floor. It feels a little bit like a vacuum, the energy clearly wanting to suck him in and spit him back out of the other side and Chat figures he should probably just follow its lead and trust himself.

“Here goes!”

Pushing himself off the floor into the hole, Chat Noir’s head disappears right through the carpet and floats through a star studded galaxy for a brief, extraordinary moment before crashing head first onto Marinette’s carpet with a yelp.

_“AHHHH!!!!”_

Chat peels his forehead off the floor long enough to get a notebook thrown as his face as Marinette’s shrieking voice howls from somewhere behind the pages, “How the _hell_ did you get in my room?!?!”

“I can explain!” Chat tries to extricate himself from the mutilated pretzel position he’s somehow folded himself into and fails miserably, “I’ve got a new power!”

“You’ve got a what now?” Marinette stomps over and Chat stares at her bare feet for a moment before trying to look beyond where his boot has made itself at home beside his head, “A new power? Since when?”

“Since five minutes ago,” Chat manages to wriggle an arm out from behind his knee and uses it to push himself over, falling with a thud onto his side, “Turns out I can make black holes! Who knew?”

“Black holes?” Marinette looks about as bewildered as he feels and takes pity on him, offering him a hand, “Like, the kind you get in space?”

“That’s what I said,” Chat replies graciously, grasping her wrist as she hauls him to his feet, “But yeah, pretty much. Basically, I can use my Cataclysme to make a portal that can take me wherever I want. Pretty cool right?”

“It’s definitely helpful,” Marinette agrees, tapping her chin in thought, “Hey Tikki, do I have more powers than just Lucky Charm too?”

The red and black kwami pops her head up from within her nest of fabric scraps on Marinette’s desk and appears appropriately sheepish, “You do, but like Plagg, I can only tell you if you need them.”

Marinette frowns briefly for a moment before turning back to Chat, “I guess you needed this power, especially now.”

“No kidding,” Chat replies, checking the windows to make sure the drapes are drawn before detransforming. Plagg shoots out of his ring and promptly passes out within Tikki’s nest, a testament to just how much energy the new power must have cost him, “Do you have any cheese in your fridge? Plagg’s probably starving.”

“I’ll go get some,” Marinette nods, walking quickly towards the trapdoor to the stairs, “I’m also going to have to explain all the noise you made when you magically appeared through my floor to my parents.”

Adrien rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and sinks onto the chaise, “Sorry. It was my first try.”

“No worries,” Marinette’s look softens as she gets a good look at him and Adrien can hardly stop himself from preening as her eyes all but undress him right then and there, “A sunny vacation suits you.”

“Thank you,” Adrien feels the heat from his chest rise past his cheeks as Marinette disappears down the steps. They’d been partners for years and her little comments about his attributes never failed to make him swoon even now, her kindness and her willingness to show him a little praise still one of his guilty pleasures. The way she could render him useless with a single word was one of her many superpowers, with or without the mask, and it reminds him just how completely and totally lucky he is to have her at his side.

Lost in thought, he barely even hears her clamber back up the steps with a glass of water and a plate full of cheese, “My parents wanted to come up and say hi but I told them you had a problem with your new power and you ended up here in nothing but your briefs.”

“What?” Adrien says a moment too soon, looking down at his mostly naked body and back up at her several times before blanching considerably, “Oops.”

“Let me guess,” she sets her plate of cheese on the desktop and smirks, “You transformed before you thought about getting dressed?”

Adrien flounders for a moment, “I remembered to bring clothes with me though!”

“I can see that,” Marinette shakes her head fondly, glancing briefly at the jeans and the t-shirt he’d brought with him on the floor, “At least you’ll have something to wear tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” Adrien trails off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously once again, “Was your father mad that I’m up in your bedroom again?”

“Not really,” Marinette sits alongside of him, eyeing him appraisingly for a moment before settling on his face, “They were more concerned about how you got here without getting caught.”

“Perks of being a superhero,” he shrugs, stretching his shoulders a little just to see her reaction. He’s certainly not disappointed as her gaze tracks the lines of his collarbones and the plane of his chest, “My eyes are up here, by the way.”

It’s suddenly Marinette’s turn to blush, “Sorry. It’s been a week since I last saw you.”

“I know,” Adrien’s voice drops ever so slightly and it’s just enough to make Marinette's eyes widen as he leans into her space, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she murmurs, grazing a painted fingernail up and down his forearm, “It was lonely here without you.”

“No stray cats to keep you company?”

“You’re the only cat I want in my room,” she says in a rush, watching him closely, “Is it still not okay to make cat jokes?”

Adrien shrugs, “I’m over it now I think. Go ahead, say it.”

“Yeah?” Marinette’s eyes light up as she leans in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, “ _Merci, mon minou._ ”

“ _Pas de souci_ ,” he murmurs back, the heat of her body reminding him just how long he’d gone without burying his fingers in her hair and kissing her senseless, “So, do you want to hear about my shitty day or can I just kiss you already?”

Marinette leans back and smirks, “Not so fast. I have a little welcome back surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Adrien’s eyes widen at the possibility, “I love surprises!”

“Good, because you’re going to like this one,” Marinette snickers and hauls him to his feet for a second time, “You’ve been so stressed out lately and I just wanted to...I always want to do things for you but…,” she shakes her head, “Anyway, when I went to grab your clothes from the mansion weeks ago, I found this and thought it might have some...sentimental value.”

Adrien tips his head to the side, the perfect picture of a curious kitten as Marinette rifles through the drawers of her wardrobe, “I thought since we had so much fun with it before, you might like to use it again.”

“ _I_ might like to use it?” Adrien asks, leaning over as Marinette all but shoves her entire arm into the opening.

“Yup,” Marinette grins in victory as her fingers finally grasp the mystery item, “I know you’ve got quite the imagination.”

With a flick of her wrist and a flourish, Marinette swings the green Gabriel tie he’d once blindfolded her with all those months ago from the tip of her finger, cocking her hip as his eyes follow the fabric back and forth. And not just blindfolded, no, she’d tied his hands together with that tie and rode him into the sunset and _holy hell,_ did it just get hotter in here? Adrien gulps as Marinette drapes the emerald satin across her neck and twirls the tail around wrist with a lick of her lips, glancing up at him from beneath her eyelashes with a small, almost nervous smile, “I wanted to do something that would make you happy so...you can do whatever you want to me.”

Adrien’s voice cracks, “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” Marinette confirms, closing the space between them, “I’m all yours.”

It occurs to him then, the amount of trust she’s put into him lately; the vacation alone with Chloé, the therapy sessions and the assurances that he’d come back to his role as Chat Noir eventually, even if he’s been putting it off over and over again for no reason at all. He thinks about the shower incident shortly before he left for Saint-Tropez and the way she’s looking at him almost a little desperately now; she wants this, clearly, and who is he to deny her? “What's the magic word?”

Marinette’s face flushes immediately as he swipes the tie from her outstretched fingers and slips it between his own, “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! The next one is quite steamy as you can imagine. A nice little sex cliffhanger never hurt anybody and I promise, I'll reward you for your patience. However, you'll only get your reward if you're a good little reader. You can be a good little reader for me right? If not, I might just have to _punish_ you.
> 
> ;)
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	13. Week 9 (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy December! Life has been hectic getting ready for the holidays on my end, so this isn't my best editing job that's for sure. I've been trying to fiddle with the chapter for weeks and I'm _still_ finding errors. 
> 
> Enjoy some sin right off the bat!

_[Week 9]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Unkempt]_   
_[Posture: Alert]_   
_[Attitude: Edgy]_   
_[Mood: Anxious]_

“Are you sure?”

Sitting half naked on her haunches, Marinette nods, “Very.”

Is he dreaming? Should he pinch himself? With the only good thing she'd kept of his former life wrapped around her eyes like a blindfold, Adrien can’t help but feel a little starstruck, a little dizzy even. She’s like a present, a gift that keeps on giving, his and his alone.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

He’s about to be reminded, and with a smirk that would have turned her to putty had she been able to see him, Adrien gets down to work.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he murmurs, slipping his thumb between her lips in the hopes that she’ll be laving it with her tongue in no time. She doesn’t disappoint — she never does — and the wet heat of her mouth makes his blood pressure spike in a way that only she can claim responsibility for. The rush of pleasure flooding straight through his veins reminds him of what it had been like to be in heat all over again, except it’s nearly August and she’s blindfolded with his tie and sitting patiently, waiting just for him.

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, _my ass._

She gasps as he pushes her backwards, her body falling slack against the mattress; he loves the way her lips part at the quick intake of breath, the change in gravity surprising her, and he presses a quick kiss to her neck just below the green silk, “Remember the last time I blindfolded you?”

Marinette nods and Adrien breathes her in, his fingertips drawing abstract patterns against her skin. Absently, he traces the lace of her bralette and punctuates each sweep with a clip of his nails, a little pressure here, a little tweak there. He knows Marinette loves it, judging by the way her chest seems to swell with every breath, her once outstretched legs now rubbing together to try and ease the tension building between them. His intentions are clear but he wants to keep her on her toes and he drags his fingers down towards her belly button before abandoning his path entirely, leaning in to kiss her instead.

Her mouth is warm and eager as her hands bury themselves in his messy curls and he can’t help but want to hold her close, relishing in the heat of her body against his skin. He loves it when she gets a little desperate, like she’s barely holding back from ripping off the tie and binding his hands to the foot of the bed just so she can get on with it, and it’s just so much fun to test her patience and watch her squirm.

But, it has been a week. He’s sex starved and stressed out and one glance in the mirror confirms he’s still looking hotter than ever.

Time to get to it.

He breaks the kiss and grabs her by the ankles before she can react, wrapping his hands around her bare calves and gliding up her legs until they reach the edge of her panties. She snags her lower lip between her teeth as he teases the skin along her thighs, first inwards and then outwards in a loop that has her teetering on the edge of outright revolt and he relishes in it, her legs parting even farther. He grins brazenly and doubles down, gently easing the fabric of her panties over her hips and past her ankles until she’s glorious bare.

He leans in and presses his lips to the spot just below her belly button and it has the desired effect, ratcheting her arousal to the point where he can smell the familiar, heady scent of her. He zones in on it like he’s got the fever again and he’s reminded of the days where he could smell her from metres away as Chat, a homing beacon calling to his senses and rendering them absolutely useless around each other. He draws his tongue around her navel and drags it down to dip along the hollow of her hips, her inner thighs, the crease of her folds...

...and, without further ado…

“Ah!” Marinette shudders as he finally ( _finally!)_ takes her clit between his lips and sucks. She’s clenching the sheets, her hips arching on their own accord and he knows he must be doing something right judging by the way she gasps his name like a prayer and moans like she’s been starving for this. And she probably has been, all things considered; she’s hardly touched him and he’s already as hard as a rock, his precome becoming evident through his straining briefs.

Forever a tease, Adrien pulls himself away from her impending orgasm and thrills at the curses she sends his way, cupping her bare hips and kissing a line of apologies along her sternum. He scoots his hands under her ass and brushes his lips along her bralette, tugging one of the cups aside only to draw her nipple into his mouth and suck, teeth and all, just to hear her swear again.

“Please,” she cries out after a particularly saucy flick of his tongue and Adrien is nothing if not agreeable, lowering his mouth yet again to travel back down towards her thighs. And why not? She’s begging for him and he’s got her exactly where he wants her, on her back, blindfolded, spread out and desperate for him. What else could he ask for? A second tie maybe? It would certainly be fun to bind her hands together as well and push her frustrations to the brink... _purrhaps_ a break in at the mansion was in order.

Adrien jerks out of his haze for a moment and blinks in confusion...did he just make a cat pun? Then again, his girlfriend’s pussy is practically begging for attention right in front of him...

No wonder the cat has his tongue.

Her whole body arches as he parts her swollen lips with his fingers and zeroes in on her clit with the kind of ferocity reserved for midnight romps on rooftops and competitions on who can get the other off faster. The mashes the flat of his tongue on the nub he loves ever so much until the pressure’s building, teasing her entrance with the pad of his finger in the hopes that she’d beg for it which she does of course, and Adrien gleefully obliges, licking, kissing and sucking with abandon. She mewls and gasps and makes all sorts of lovely sounds that go straight to his cock and he adds a second finger just to up the ante, alternating between a leisurely and breakneck pace. He keeps her on the edge and she reaches up to cup her breasts, kneading them in time with his finger’s thrusts.

But all good things must come to an end and Adrien is eager to get on with the show, curling his fingers in a rapidfire move that’s worked so many time before and she’s suddenly twitching, gasping, her chest heaving upwards as he watches from between her thighs, torturing her through it all with his thumb. He pulls away for a moment to all but rip his briefs off, giving her barely a minute to recover before diving in again and stroking in and out with his fingers as his palm presses against her clit. She makes the strangest noise as she claws against the mattress and Adrien keeps his fingers buried inside as he crawls up to kiss her, smothering her moans as she comes a second time.

He doesn't wait for her to recover this time, her core still throbbing around his fingers with the aftershocks of her release. Pushing himself onto his elbows, he drags his cock between her swollen lips and presses into her in one smooth thrust that has his eyes nearly crossing. _Fuck_ , she feels good and he tells her so, his voice breaking as he gasps against the shell of her ear, elated and desperate for release. She digs her nails into his back and it’s all the invitation he’s ever needed, fully sheathing himself inside of her with a twitch of his hips that has her toes curling, groaning as her body adjusts around him. Impatient as always, he listens to her whimpers as she shifts her thighs up to meet his and Adrien supposes it's time to indulge her, setting a rhythm until they’re both burning from the momentum, the strain and the tension like a live wire between them, volatile and uncontrollable. He’s hardly hanging on and neither is she by the sounds of it, silencing her little cries with kisses as she reaches down between them and coaxes out yet another spectacular orgasm.

_Fuck!_

He loses himself within seconds of watching her throw her head back, blindfolded and lost in bliss, and Adrien can’t help but follow her over.

Fighting for breath a few seconds later, Adrien collapses beside her and hugs her to his chest, unfastening the chartreuse silk with a clumsy flick of his fingers. Her eyes are still closed when he pulls it away and he drops it behind her, skimming his fingernails against the bare skin of her arms and chest until she finally blinks up at him, “Was it worth the wait?”

He waits a beat, tilting his head back with a smile, “Oh yes.”

“Good,” she hooks her knee over his hip and snuggles closer, “About your hair though…”

Adrien reaches up and cards his fingers through his curls, suddenly quite aware of how ridiculously messy it must look. He tries to pat it down but Marinette just laughs, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and drawing back down between them, “Is it that bad?”

“I like it, but you’re going to need to start wearing one of these all the time, not just when you’re going down on me,” she reaches back and plucks one of her elastics out of her sex mussed hair, “You’re going to have a hard time convincing Paris that you’re not a superhero if you keep walking around with it all messy like this.”

Adrien sighs and takes the proffered band from her fingers, slipping it around his wrist, “Point taken.”

“Good,” she kisses him softly, “So how was Saint-Tropez?”

“It was amazing, you would have loved it,” Adrien begins, relaxing in her embrace as he retells some of his wildest tales, the parties, the shopping, the typical Chloé drama. Marinette watches him earnestly, soaking up every word into the early morning hours and Adrien knows without a shadow of a doubt that he is _home_.

~

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Marinette is a late sleeper, which is why he has no qualms in sneaking out of bed that morning and changing into the clothes he’d brought with him the night before to find some breakfast. Purposely leaving his phone behind for her to see when she wakes up, he slips out of her room as quietly as he can and hits the washroom before sneaking downstairs to the bakery, helplessly following his nose. The smells of bread and butter wafting up from the vents in the floors are making his mouth water as he pads down the stairs and peeks into the bakery’s kitchen, waving at Tom with a small, sheepish smile.

“Good morning son,” Tom announces jovially, waving him into the busy space. There are industrial mixers incorporating and kneading doughs on the far end of the room, all pumping out a variety of sights and scents that has Adrien practically melting, “How did you sleep?”

Adrien shrugs and continues look around curiously, “Marinette’s chaise is pretty comfortable.”

“I’m sure it is,” Tom doesn’t bat an eyelash, “But something tells me you might be down here for more than just the company.”

“Everything smells _really_ good,” Adrien admits, his eyes zeroing in on a tray of croissants, “How do you guys not end up eating everything you make?”

Tom laughs, “I have to remind myself that I need to save room for dinner.”

Adrien grins as Tom takes two of the pastries and drops them into Adrien’s waiting hands, “Thank you.”

“There’s more where that came from,” he responds, shooing Adrien out of the way so he can open the tallest of the industrial ovens without burning either of them, “Breads and buns and everything you could possibly dream of!”

“I can see that,” Adrien does his best impression of a heart eye emoji as Tom walks by with tray after tray of glutenny goodness, “Your brioches are my favourite.”

“Good to know!” Tom sets the trays down on the counter to cool and puts another batch of proofed rolls into the oven, “I love the brioches too, it’s like you _bread_ my mind.”

Adrien bursts into snickers and braces himself on a heap of flour sacks as Tom continues, “Oh, there’s more where that came from. My bread puns are the upper crust! You won’t find anyone _butter_ than me.”

“Oh my god,” Adrien giggles shamelessly, “I’m going to have to start studying puns again to keep up with you!”

“ _Crust_ me,” Tom says proudly, puffing out his flour dusted chest, “You’d need to spend a lot more time in the bakery to be as good as me!”

“Do you want some help them?” Adrien asks, wiping away the tears budding at the corners of his eyes with a smile, “It’s the _yeast_ I could do.”

“That’s my boy!” Tom booms, clapping him on the back with a laugh so thunderous it nearly knocks the cooling buns onto the floor. Adrien stumbles a little but manages to catch his balance on the rolling table with a grin so wide it's practically splitting his face in two; it’s a welcome relief, if anything, and he embraces the distraction as Tom slaps a mountain of dough in front of him and teaches him how to knead it for the next few hours, flour and butter ending up in places flour and butter never should. Flatten, stretch, fold, half-turn, flatten, stretch, fold, half-turn...it’s good work though, repetitive in a cathartic sort of way as he beats down batters like akumas, kneading the living daylights out of them with all the strength of Chat Noir. He thinks Tom might be getting a kick out of it too, judging by the way he’s been egging him on, urging him to get his frustrations out on the dough until the gloopy mess that sticks to his hands turns into a compact ball that’s silky-smooth to the touch.

“Well well, what do we have here.”

Both Adrien and Tom look up as if they’ve been caught and find Sabine leaning against the door frame, “My daughter’s two favourite boys bonding over bread.”

Adrien immediately straightens, “Good morning Sabine!”

“Good morning Adrien,” she greets him, stepping closer to adjust his messy ponytail. She has to reach up onto her tiptoes to pull Adrien’s bangs back into the elastic and Adrien bends so she doesn’t have to stretch so much, closing his eyes as her fingers fasten the ponytail with practiced ease, “We can’t have the customers finding golden hairs in their loaves, now can we?”

“Sorry,” he replies sheepishly.

“It’s no problem,” she assures him, standing at the end of the table between the two of them, “We have to keep it a secret that you’re here. I certainly don’t want the press flooding through our doors like they’re trying to do at _La Grande Paris_.”

Adrien grimaces, “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I brought that on you. If it’ll make you feel better, I can go back—”

“Nonsense,” Tom interrupts, shaking his head, “You’re always welcome here.”

“Absolutely,” Sabine tips her head assuredly, turning her attention back to Adrien, “And we’re going to start by keeping you behind the scenes, tucked away from any prying eyes.”

Adrien blinks, “Are you sure?”

“Of course we are,” Sabine explains, placing her hand on top of his, “And we’re going to sit down and figure this out, don’t you worry.”

“The sooner the press thinks Chat Noir and Adrien are two different people, the sooner you can go back to enjoying your independence,” Tom turns briefly to pull some of the bread they’d made earlier out of the proofer, “Marinette already has a few ideas.”

“And speak of the devil,” Sabine chuckles, her eyes resting on something just past his shoulder. Adrien spins around and sees a very sleep mussed Marinette standing in the doorway, yawning spectacularly, “Are we keeping you awake dear?”

Marinette just grunts and sits down on the flour sacks Adrien had been leaning on earlier, “What were you talking about? I heard you say my name.”

“We were just discussing how we were going to get the press out of Adrien’s hair,” Sabine walks over and fruitlessly tries to sort out Marinette’s own birdsnest of a hairstyle, “Marinette?”

“Oh right,” Marinette nods, rubbing her eyes before focusing back on the three of them, “Well, we were talking about it once the news broke at dinner time last night and...well, we only really have two options. Either you admit that you’re Chat Noir, which is a giant no-no by the way, or…”

“Or Chat Noir makes a reappearance,” Tom finishes, setting down a rolling pin with a thunk, “With all of the press waiting in front of _La Grande Paris_ , it would be impossible for you to leave unnoticed.”

“Except you have,” Sabine nudges her other half with a smile, “And I think we can all agree that if Chat Noir returns to the spotlight tonight, then people will have to admit that the rumour was a silly one.”

Adrien pales, “I...I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

“Well, are you ready to admit you’re Chat Noir to the world?” Marinette counters, leaning her elbows on the table, “Because it’s not like you can pose for a photo op with yourself.”

“That’s what Photoshop is for, isn’t it?”

“And who's going to Photoshop it? I’m a designer, not an editor, I can’t do a good enough job to convince Paris, let alone Alya. She’s the queen at that kind of thing.”

“Can’t we just ask her to do it? As a favour?”

Marinette looks at him as if he’d just grown a second head, “And how would I explain that to her? ‘Hey Alya, can you Photoshop these two pictures of Adrien and Chat Noir posing together in the exact same spot with the exact same light?’ She’s the most clever person I know, she’d figure it out.”

“We can’t just…” Adrien trails off, already knowing the answer, “We can’t just tell her?”

Marinette just shakes her head, “I love Alya with all my heart but I can’t trust her with this. No one was ever supposed to know our identities, even us. It was only outside circumstances that caused, well...this.”

She gestures around to the four of them and Adrien nods a little defeatedly, “...alright.”

There’s a sigh of relief all around as the Dupain-Cheng’s shoulders relax noticeably, as if the invisible wires keeping them upright had suddenly been cut. No one looks more relieved that Marinette herself, her pale skin made even more pallid in the florescent lights of the bakery’s kitchen. It reminds him of the conversation he’d had with Plagg nearly a week earlier, about how she’d been transforming all too often and the repercussions of the imbalance it would cause. It’s something he has to talk with her about but there are so many other more pressing things at hand to deal with, namely the fact that his entire reputation as Adrien hangs in tatters.

“Will you go out as Chat Noir with me tonight?” Marinette asks, the desperate edge in her voice breaking him out of his reverie, “Please?”

Adrien swallows and nods, “Sure but...can I start out on my own first? Just for a few minutes or so to get a lay of the land again?”

“Of course, of course,” Marinette pushes herself to her feet and Adrien doesn’t miss the flash of worry on her parents faces as she finds her balance, “I’m going to go back to bed now, I think.”

“Great idea,” Tom says, absently rolling a cylinder of dough beneath his palm, “Sleep well _ma belle_ , and don’t forget about the protein shake in the fridge.”

“Oui Papa.”

“And the chicken sandwich I made you for lunch.”

“Oui Maman.”

“And make sure you make yourself a smoothie around 14h.”

Marinette sighs, “Oui Papa.”

“And make time for a snack too! There’s some leftover focaccia on the counter if you want some.”

“Yes Maman, I get it, I need to eat more,” Marinette sighs again and gives Adrien a long suffering look, “You’d think I ran marathons or something.”

“You _do_ ,” Tom chuckles, shaking his head as he glances Adrien’s way, “You only spend every waking moment as Ladybug when you’re not at work or sewing outfits. You need your strength if you’re going to be able to keep up!”

Marinette rolls her eyes for the umpteeth time and just nods, disappearing back through the doorway. Adrien stares down at his dust covered hands for a brief moment before looking back up at the two of them, their expressions oddly expectant.

“Should I go with her?”

“She needs her rest,” Sabine replies after a moment, sharing a look with her husband, “And now that you'll be back patrolling as Chat Noir, maybe things can go back to normal.”

“...back to normal?”

“Everything's been crazy since, well...you know,” Tom says, a little uncomfortable, “And she's been a little off ever since. It wasn't until...Sabine, what was his name again?”

“Monsieur Fu.”

“Monsieur Fu, that was it! Lovely little fellow, even though I had to bend down to see him properly,” Tom shakes his head fondly, “It wasn’t until he visited the bakery the other day that we got the full story.”

Adrien feels his stomach drop even though he doesn't quite know why, “Master Fu was here?”

“He was,” Sabine confirms, brushing some flour from Tom's shoulder, “And he had some interesting things to share.”

“He did?”

“He did.”

“Oh,” Adrien can see where this is going already and shudders, “If this is about the Marinette overworking herself, then I think I already figured it out—”

“That’s great,” Sabine takes a step in his direction, an entirely terrifying expression painting her lips, “Because I know for a fact that Marinette has been doing everything in her power to make things easier for you.”

Adrien gulps, “I know.”

“Relationships don’t work without compromise,” she continues, imposing as ever, “And sometimes it's about doing something for the other person, even when you don't want to.”

With a full body shiver, all Adrien can do is nod and try not to choke, “Yes Sabine.”

“Good,” Sabine relaxes her shoulders marginally, the steely glint in her eyes never wavering as she moves around him towards the front, “Now, I have customers to attend to. Don't have too much fun back here!”

“There's nothing more fun that being in a bakery!” Tom beams, patting Adrien on the back with his meaty hand as if he hadn't just survived the most frightening conversation in his life, “Except beating Marinette at Mecha Strike IV. You should see the face she makes every time I get her with my ‘Dupain Double Slam’...”

~

The plan was simple, foolproof even. With the press’ eyes glued to _La Grande Paris_ and his balcony, there would be no denying that Adrien was _not_ Chat Noir. How else would he have gotten out? There was a security detail assigned to his floor and once Chat Noir reappeared on the scene, the press would ask the hotel security first and after they’d exhausted that lead, they’d go to their outside footage and see the same thing. No escape, no crazy conspiracy theories; Adrien and Chat Noir would be proven to be separate people tonight so long as everything went off without a hitch.

It's just after 20h and fully transformed, Chat Noir finds himself perched on top of a crane as the wind gently rocks the enormous structure back and forth. He mulls over his actions for a moment and knows that the next few hours will be an absolute whirlwind of insanity. There will be crowds of people and paparazzi and press conferences and god knows what…

...but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he was a _teensy_ bit excited.

Diving face first off the crane, Chat Noir waits until the very last minute to extend his baton and soften his fall, sliding his way back down to terra firma. There’s a huge carnival going on in the _Jardin des Tuileries_ and Chat has always liked to make an entrance, skirting behind a row of carny booths towards the ferris wheels. He’d never ridden one as a kid, having always been stuck at home or modelling, but times were about to change.

He clambers up the bracing relatively unseen and swings between the beams, scrabbling until he’s sitting comfortably on the axle. The wheel spins around him and Chat waits patiently for someone to see him in the smattering of fairy lights and neon signs lighting up the carnival in a spooky sort of way; he kind of likes it though, the hawking and the laughing, the teenagers and the young adults running amok as the parents tug their children home by the hand.

It doesn’t take long to be spotted.

“Is that—”

“Oh my god, it’s—”

“It’s him! It’s really—”

“CHAT NOIR!”

Chat gives a little wave of his paw and twirls his baton with a flourish, posing as a flurry of people with flashing smartphones start flocking towards the ferris wheel. He grins and kicks his legs off the ledge as they start to chant his name, waving their arms in excitement at the other half of their city’s famous duo.

It won’t take long for word to get out now that he’s made an appearance; Twitter and Instagram will make short work of that. So he gets up and stretches his back, offering the swarm of fans below him an eyebrow wiggle and a trademark wink.

“Citizens of Paris!” he calls, waving to them all, “It’s good to be back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir is back! And that's a good thing too, because more shit is about to hit the fan in the next chapter...oops!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	14. Week 9 (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I leave you with the final chapter of 2018 as a gift! And holy hell, was it a labour of love. I can't say that I've ever gone this crazy with html before...I hope you enjoy the refreshing change of pace from regular prose!

Nadja Chamack  
@nadjachamackTVi   
BREAKING NEWS! Chat Noir has been spotted again in Paris! @JardindesTuileries Tag all of your Chat Noir sightings #chatnoirspotted 20:05 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  782  459 

Rose Lavillant  
@lavieenrose2001   
@nadjachamackTVi OMG I saw him! #chatnoirspotted Ladybug will be so happy! Will we see them together? Will they kiss?! It’s so romantic!!!💋❤️️ 20:09 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  24  35 

Lê Chiến Kim  
@kingbuff02   
@0110maxk bruh he’s back 🐱#chatnoirspotted and looking good man where does chat noir work out like #fitgoals #fitspo @chatnoir 20:14 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  75  144 

Max Kanté  
@0110maxk   
@kingbuff02 As we’ve already discussed, I have safely presumed that his physique is likely do to his abilities as a superhero. 20:19 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  3  4 

Juleka Couffaine  
@alternativegirl02   
@lavieenrose2002 tnx for the selfie @chatnoir at the carnival it was awesome riding the ferris wheel with u & Rose💜💜💜  20:42 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  55  72 

Wayhem Monomane  
@adrienagresteismyhusband   
theres no way my bf @adrienagreste  can be @chatnoir bc ive been camped outside his hotel all day and hes still inside. my future husband isn’t chat noir but hes a hero in my heart xoxox👨❤️💋👨 20:46 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  21  30 

Alec Cataldi  
@aleccataldiTVi   
@chatnoir just announced he will be making an announcement via Twitter about his absence and his heroic return! Stay tuned for minute by minute updates as #chatnoirspotted continues! 20:59 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  751  966 

Chat Noir  
@chatnoir   
I’m back and better than ever! So happy to see everyone out and about tonight enjoying the city! I know it’s been a while and I just wanted to apologise to all of my fans first and foremost for disappearing 1/3 21:15 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  986  1599 

Chat Noir  
@chatnoir   
I’ve been taking some time off to rest and figure stuff out. I’m better now and I’ve been thinking about my role as protector of Paris and I knew it was time to come back. My partner needed me most of all 2/3 21:15 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  851  1346 

Chat Noir  
@chatnoir   
Thank you for supporting @ladybugparis  when I couldn’t. I’m in debt to all of Paris for your love and support🙇 I’ll be around the city visiting citizens all night so if you see me, don’t be shy! Stay pawsitive!🐾 ~Chat Noir 3/3 21:15 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  2960  4581 

💚Nino💚  
  
NASIKBJDSFIBKDSLKSAHBJSADHJBFSLKFSD  
  
???Alya?  
  
CHAT NOIR IS BACK OMGOMGOMG  
  
seriously?  
  
YESYESYES  
  
I HAVE TO UPDATE THE LADYBLOG  
  
IM FREAKING OUT OMG  
  
HE LOOKS SO GOOD LIKE   
  
OMG NINO I CANT EVEN RN  
  
deep breaths pls  
  
HOW ARE YOU NOT EXCITED ABOUT THIS?!?!?!  
  
trust me, i’m very excited  
  
but i’m mostly excited because this means my best bro hasn’t been lying to me all this time about being chat noir  
  
OBVIOUSLY  
  
so are you gonna try and find him?  
  
ALREADY ON THE HUNT BABE  
  
good luck<3<3<3  
  
just checked twitter, he’s near the 7ème  
  
SOMEONE JUST SNAPPED HIM AT THE EIFFEL TOWER  
  
INTERVIEW TIME  
  
I’M TOTALLY GONNA BEAT NADIA AND GET THE FIRST SCOOP!  
  
i believe in you babe  
  
go get him  
  
K LOVE YOU BYE  
  
I SEE HIM  
  
SETTING UP LIVESTREAM NOW MAKE SURE YOU'RE WATCHING  
  


The Ladyblog  
@ladyblog   
CHECK OUT MY LIVESTREAM RIGHT NOW ON THE LADYBLOG! EXCLUSIVE FIRST INTERVIEW WITH CHAT NOIR STREAMING RIGHT NOW! (TRANSCRIPT WILL BE POSTED ON THE WEBSITE) 21:32 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  15246  19684 

ladyblog CHAT NOIR RETURNS Chat Noir is back! And as the esteemed Ladyblogger, I managed to snag the very first interview! That’s right, I have the EXCLUSIVE scoop on everything you want to know about Chat Noir’s absence right here!  But since my site is CRASHING at the moment with all of the traffic coming my way (you guys are THIRSTY!), I’m about to spill the tea right here, right now! For those of you who weren’t able to see it live, I’ve got a rundown of what we discussed below.  1) First of all Chat Noir is really glad to be back. He admitted that Ladybug was working WAY too hard in his absence and he was being a bad partner. Typical Chat, always blaming himself for everything. What a sweet guy.  2) When I asked him about what he was doing during his 2.5 month absence, Chat told me he was working on finding a job and trying to get his life back in order (whatever that means). Apparently, he’s been a busy boy and was trying to spend his break “being as normal as I could”. When I asked him if he was enjoying his time off with a “lucky lady” *wink wink*, he just smiled and told me he still doesn't know her true identity. AS IF LOL!  3) Speaking of Ladybug, he went on to gush some more about how awesome she is. If I had let him, he would have talked my ear off about his favourite bug for hours on end but I was on a mission so when he finally took a breath, I cut in and asked about the latest rumour: are you Adrien Agreste?  4) Chat laughed out loud when I brought this up. I figured he’d try and deflect the question but then he dropped a bombshell I wasn’t expecting, which was all about his friendship with Adrien. Turns out they’ve been pals for ages. What? Your guess is as good as mine Ladyfans, because that cat had his lips sealed.  5) Not so fast though. I’m not just some pushover journalist, I get to the TRUTH. So I asked him point blank how he knows Adrien Agreste and he just tells me I’m going to have to figure it out. Like really? WHERE’S MY TEA?!  I wanted to ask more but Ladybug showed up on the scene and stole him away. They’re currently visiting the rest of their old haunts, judging by my Twitter feed, so keep your eyes open! Remember, if you want to submit your photos to the Ladyblog, please email them to submissions@ladyblog.com  #chatnoir#ladybug #ladynoir #ladyblog 23,248 notes 

Mayor Bourgeois  
@BourgeoisParis   
Welcome back Chat Noir! It’s such a pleasure to see you around the city again with Ladybug at your side! #chatnoirspotted 22:06 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  567  1723 

Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie  
@TomSabineBoulangerie   
#chatnoirspotted we will be selling Chat Noir cookies in honour of Chat Noir’s return to Paris tomorrow! Come early, they’ll sell out fast!🐱🍪 22:30 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  688  3452 

Chat Noir  
  
So.  
  
i’m standing right beside you fyi  
  
You’re best friends with Adrien Agreste now?  
  
i know  
  
it just kind of came out of my mouth ok?  
  
???  
  
That’s it? That’s your excuse?  
  
alya was pressuring me and i just said the first thing i could think of  
  
You didn’t even think this through?! Seriously?!  
  
Do you know how much harder it’s going to be for me to prove that the two of you are seperate people now?!  
  
As if I didn’t have enough to stress out about  
  
People are going to want proof!  
  
i know  
  
i kinda fucked up again didn't i?  
  
Understatement of the century  
  
what are we going to do now?  
  
Damage control  
  


Ladybug  
@LadybugParis   
Hello Paris! It was so nice to see everyone welcoming back Chat Noir! He appreciated the warm welcome so much! We’re off to get some well deserved rest now (I’m about to fall asleep as we speak!) but we’ll be back before you know it! Stay Miraculous! 23:57 PM - 29 Juillet 2018  9846  14583 

Nadja Chamack  
@nadjachamackTVi   
BREAKING NEWS! Parisian Superhero Ladybug FAINTS During TVi Ongoing Live Broadcast of Chat Noir’s Return! Click here for more details! 00:02 PM - 30 Juillet 2018  1584  2763 

Marc Anciel  
@ancielart   
😱OMG is Ladybug OK? She’s my hero! Is she hurt? @nathawrimo Remember we talked about how tired she looked? #loveforladybug 00:06 PM - 30 Juillet 2018  42  19 

Mireille Caquet  
@MireilleCaquetTVi   
TVi just confirmed Chat Noir carrying Ladybug towards the 4ème. Do we have any viewers out that way who have seen them go by? nadjachamackTVi Live coverage continues all night on TVi #loveforladybug 00:14 PM - 30 Juillet 2018  249  115 

Alix Kubdel  
@alixsk8   
They went by the Louvre a few minutes ago. Ladybug was awake but looked tired and Chat Noir looked worried af. I hope she’s ok, my fav badasses don’t deserve this shit🤦♀️ 00:19 PM - 30 Juillet 2018  20  14 

Ladybug  
@LadybugParis   
I’m ok guys! It’s no big deal really, I just had a little dizzy spell. Sometimes I get them when I’m really tired 😊 Chat got me home safe now so I’m going to get some rest. Please don’t worry about me! Sleep well Paris!🐞 01:22 PM - 30 Juillet 2018  9846  14583 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have the most wonderful holiday! I will be hard at work writing and trying to do all of the stuff I didn't do while I was working 3 jobs all year! I'll try and do a bit of relaxing too just like Marinette will be forced to do...but how will she react? I'll let you decide. 
> 
> See you in 2019! I'm still on Tumblr @ao3bronte! I'm always trying (trying being the key word) to chat with my fellow Miraculous fans! Hit me up!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	15. Week 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone had a great celebration and enjoyed a little bit of a break. Many of you wished me well in the comments of the last chapter and I want to thank you tremendously for your support for that social media experiment of mine. Everyone seemed to really enjoy it so you may see a little of it here and there as I move forward with Safeword!

_[Week 10]_  
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_  
_[Appearance: ...yikes]_  
_[Posture: Tense]_  
_[Attitude: Somewhat Cooperative]_  
_[Mood: ...double yikes]_

“And that's when I knew that I really fucked up.”

Docteur Renée peers up from where she's been glancing at her notebook, “I think you're being a little harsh on yourself Adrien. I mean, it’s not like you’re a doctor by any stretch of the imagination.”

“But still!” Adrien wrings his hands together and flops down onto the chaise, “Why didn't I just ask her how she was feeling?! I should have acted sooner! I’d already put two and two together, I saw the signs!”

“Clearly not all of them,” she murmurs, a little cryptically, “She's fine though right? She's getting the medical attention she needs?”

Adrien nods, “Yeah, she'll be fine. She just needs some rest.”

“That’s good to hear. Exhaustion and fatigue are not that uncommon, especially in today's world. I'm not surprised Marinette is feeling the weight of all her responsibilities,” Docteur Renée tucks her stylus behind her ear, “Speaking of which, how have you been handling all the stress on your plate? Dealing with all this press again must be difficult.”

“Actually, it’s not so bad right now,” Adrien says after a particularly long exhale, “Ladybug’s fainting spell kind of took the spotlight off of me. People still want to see me and interview me and whatever, especially after what Chat said about us being friends.”

Docteur Renée tips her head to the side, “I saw some tabloids today on my way to work and they all seem to agree that there’s no way you left your room at _La Grande Paris_. I think you’re off the hook.”

“For now.”

“For now,” she agrees, “But if Chat considers the two of you friends, why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

Adrien swallows uncomfortably. Both he and Marinette had talked about this repeatedly while she laid flat in bed this morning, having been strictly forbidden by her parents to do anything except sleep and eat for fear of her fainting from exhaustion again, “It’s not something we were supposed to talk about.”

“Was that your choice or his?”

“It was a...a mutual decision,” Adrien can feel the sweat on his brow begin to drip into his hairline, “If my...if Gabriel ever caught wind that I was talking to someone without his express permission, he would have taken my mobile away. And if people knew I was friends with Chat Noir, they would bug us about each other, if that makes any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Docteur Renée seems to stare holes through his composure as she leans forwards, “Do you still talk to each other now?”

“Not err...not really?” Adrien stumbles over his words and wills himself to focus, “He’s been on vacation right? And I’ve been taking time off to do stuff, you know, so yeah, no. I mean, I wish! Chat Noir is a really cool guy! We just uh, we just fell out of contact since he wasn’t being Chat Noir anymore.”

“Mmhmm,” Docteur Renée brackets her elbows on her knees, “And why do you think Chat Noir took all that time off? Seems peculiar that he would just up and leave his partner on her own.”

Adrien doesn’t know how this session could possibly get any worse, “Maybe he just needed a break? Like me?”

“That’s true,” she nods her head, almost placatingly, “But we can’t always just drop our responsibilities when times get tough. I wonder how his decision to leave affected Ladybug.”

“Probably not well,” Adrien gulps, his stomach dropping at the memory of catching his unconscious girlfriend after she’d passed out mid air on their way home last night, “Maybe that’s why Ladybug fainted.”

Docteur Renée hums, “Maybe, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that. I’ve been watching the trial coverage closely and Ladybug is heavily involved with the case. It must be taxing, handling all of that every single day without her partner, not to mention the crime fighting she does on a daily basis.”

“I haven’t really kept up on the news lately so I wouldn’t really know.”

“Understandable, but between her and Gabriel, it’s Ladybug we see and hear from the most. Events, press conferences, burglaries, assaults, fires, cats in trees, you name it, Ladybug is doing it.”

“Oh.”

“Although I can’t imagine _how_ she does it,” Docteur Renée shakes her head, “But I hope wherever she is in Paris, she’s getting the rest and relaxation she needs. And who knows, maybe this will inspire Chat Noir to come back for good.”

“Maybe…”

“I don’t want to presume, but must be exhausting, being transformed all the time. Again, I’m no expert, but it must be hard on her body. I’m sure it can’t be healthy.”

Adrien begins to tug on his ponytail in earnest, “N-no...I uh...probably not.”

“It sounds a bit like your situation with Marinette doesn’t it?”

“Y-y-yeah?” Adrien grapples for control over the rush of blood to his face and finds himself entirely helpless, “Except they’re, you know, superheroes and we’re not because...because that would be ridiculous?”

“Of course,” she agrees, “Completely ridiculous.”

Silence hangs over them for a moment and Adrien can practically feel Docteur Renée’s stare on his skin as he continues to gawk helplessly at the ceiling, “The fact remains, however, that you’re both in similar predicaments. You feel responsible for Marinette’s exhaustion—”

“—I should have done something about it before it got this bad!”

Docteur Renée leans back onto her elbows, “You know, I try not to make assumptions about people, that’s not my job, but I have a feeling Chat Noir might be feeling the same guilt about Ladybug as you are with Marinette. If you let it, this guilt will grind you down. It will take everything from you and it will keep taking and taking until you have nothing left. It will make you think that their struggles are your problem and your responsibility and maybe they are, but at least you’re doing something about it. Guilt will hurt you, and it will do its best to break you and make you think that this is all normal, and that any alternative is a just some make believe wonderland.”

“Your father and his lawyer, they’re going to put every ounce of effort into trying to steal your confidence away. They want to make you feel transparent and small no matter how hard you push back, and that’s okay. Do you know why?”

Adrien shakes his head, his heart pounding.

“Because you’re going to stand up and fight. You’re going to look guilt right in the eye and you’re going to show the people closest to you, like Marinette, all of the kindness and compassion in your soul. You may not be Chat Noir, but you’re going to take that kindness and compassion and turn it into a superpower. And being kind is a power, a power that not a lot of us possess. It’s easy to let your heart turn to lead, especially in your circumstance, but you’ve already proved how strong you are. You still care deeply about Marinette. You care deeply enough to be laying here, asking for help on how to help her, and that’s the first step to taking care of this guilt and facing it head on.”

“I want you to go home to Marinette tonight and talk to her. Don’t apologise and don’t let her change the subject, let her talk about herself. Let her talk about her feelings and her opinions and what’s weighing on her mind. Be there for her and I promise you, it’ll make a world of difference for you both. And if that works, then I’ll give you some more ideas the next time I see you.”

~

It does work, inevitably.

After transforming and calling on his newfound power, Chat slaps his hand on a brick wall in an alleyway behind Docteur Renée’s office and walks back in through the bookshelf in the Dupain Cheng’s living room, which is an unfortunate adventure unto itself. After cleaning up all of the books he’d so thoughtfully strewn all over the place and detransforms, Adrien drops Plagg off inside the fridge and grabs the sandwich labelled _‘Marinette 16h’_ before heading up to her bedroom in the hopes that he hadn't woken her up from all the noise.

Unsurprisingly though, Marinette is fully awake and reading a book against the stuffed cat that she uses as a headboard, looking entirely unimpressed with just about everything. She sets it down when she sees him come in and beckons him up onto the bed's upper platform, snatching the sandwich from his hands and devouring it voraciously, “What did you knock over this time?”

“Bookshelf,” Adrien cringes and settles cross legged beside her, “I’ll get a handle on it eventually.”

“Good. How was therapy?” she asks between bites, that desperate look shining in her eyes once again. She's bored to tears and makes no effort in concealing that fact, lamenting hourly since she’d woken up this morning about how much she’s been missing out on since her parents are dead set on making her rest.

“It was good, I learned a few things,” he replies, wondering how he's going to breach the topic. He spends much more time talking about himself these days than he does listening to her, which is a jarring realisation he wishes he never had to face in the first place, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, “Peachy. Splendid. Marvelous. Perfectly fine enough to get out of bed.”

Adrien sometimes feels like he should be begging for mercy when she makes a face like that; her glare could cut concrete like butter, “Sorry, but your parents would kill me if I let you.”

Marinette sighs spectacularly and rolls over, showing him her back, “I hate everything.”

“And I love you too,” Adrien grimaces and contemplates crawling in beside her before ultimately deciding to stay put, “In fact, I love you so much that I really just want to hear you talk.”

Marinette shoots him a glare over her shoulder, “Did your therapist put you up to this?”

“Maybe?” he says sheepishly, straightening the wrinkles in her blankets, “She said you would feel better if you got everything off your chest.”

“Well I don’t want to,” she huffs back, rolling over once again. She stays like that for several minutes and Adrien doesn’t really know what to do with himself, barring the mental connection he was making between Plagg’s temper tantrums and hers. Why were they so eerily similar? The thought alone makes him shiver as he picks at his thumb nail for lack of anything better to do, patiently waiting her out. She’d start talking eventually right? All he had to do was listen...

“Do you ever just want to…throttle something? Like when you’re so mad you just want to grab it and shake it?”

Adrien looks up and blinks, “Not really? No?”

“Well I do, sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes I just want to... _eeerrrggg”_ she mimes the action with her blanket and wriggles until she’s on her back, “I haven’t beaten up anyone is _ages_ and I just want to _smack_ something.”

“Maybe when you get better, we can do some sparring?”

“Maybe,” she lets her hands drop to her sides with a thump, “Maybe not. Will you take me to an archery range on a date one day? I want to stick _Le Papillon’s_ face on a target.”

Adrien begins to snicker in earnest, “Sure thing. I’ll google one later.”

“Good. I need to let my frustrations out on the people who deserve it. And you know who else deserves to be yelled at?”

“Who?”

“Your father’s lawyer, what’s his name? Ledroit? That guy is stupid and I want to shoot him in his dumb face too.”

“With the bow and arrow?”

“Obviously,” she snorts through her nose, “I think I’d get in trouble if I went after him as Ladybug.”

“Probably,” he agrees, “So who else will face Marinette’s wrath?”

“Lila,” she begins, listing various things off on her fingers, “Brussels sprouts, chia seeds and marzipan. Also that song I hate, the Kiki one—”

“—In My Feelings?”

“Yes! That one! I hate that one,” Marinette sighs loudly, waving wildly with her hands, “I hate it! I have to turn it off every time! And Spotify advertisements! Why do they do that every like, two songs? Why can’t I just listen to music?”

“Don’t you have premium?”

“Let me just go get my money tree,” Marinette grouses, pursing her lips, “I spend all my money on fabric and sequins.”

“Oh,” Adrien crosses his legs and leans forwards, “What else?”

“I hate people that walk slow,” she glares at the ceiling, “And I hate when people colour-block red and orange together in the same outfit. I hate bullies and liars and I hate people that cough and don’t cover their mouths. Oh, and I hate it when the Metro doesn’t get here when it’s supposed to be and I _hate hate hate_ it when customers are mean to me when I’m at Maison Michel. Like, sorry I don’t have your size? I don’t make the hats, I’m just an intern! Don’t yell at me!”

Adrien watches in fascination as her entire body grows more and more animated the more she rambles, “Waking up early is probably my number one most hated thing. That, and being cold. I _hate_ being cold. I hate it. _Hate it._ It’s stupid and it’s unnecessary. I shouldn’t have to sit in a freezing cold classroom just because they’re too cheap to turn on the heat.”

“Agreed,” Adrien nods his head, “I feel that way about A/C sometimes too.”

“Oh boohoo, M. Space Heater,” she narrows her eyes at him, “Must be nice to never be cold.”

“Must be nice to never sweat to death,” he sticks his tongue out and she reaches out to try and snag it, narrowly missing by a few scant centimeters, “Next time you’re cold, just tell me and I’ll warm you up.”

“And get your sweaty body all over me? No thanks,” she snickers as Adrien takes an offended intake of breath.

“Well I never,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest, “I guess you’re never getting the privilege of touching this perfect sweaty body every again.”

It’s Marinette’s turn to stick her tongue out as Adrien strikes a pose, shoving his nose up into the air, “Yeah right. It’s you who can’t keep your hands off of _me_.”

“That’s because you’re _purrfect_ ,” he smirks down at her, “Every freckle, every dimple, everything.”

She makes another silly face at him and huffs, turning her back to him again, “Stop it.”

“Stop what? Telling you how beautiful you are? Telling you how perfect and amazing and awesome and brave you are? How I couldn’t imagine this world without your smile and your voice and your strawberry shampoo?”

Marinette just grumbles and Adrien takes a chance, leaning a little closer, “I don’t think there’s a force on this earth that could stop me from telling you everyday just how much I love you.”

“Stooooop,” she rolls over and smothers herself in her pillow, mumbling something entirely unintelligible into the fabric.

“What was that?” Adrien finally feels it’s safe enough to lie down beside her, scooching just close enough to touch, “I can’t hear you with your face smushed in your pillow.”

Lifting her head, Marinette turns with a huff and sulks at him from beneath her bangs, “You’re dumb.”

“Absolutely,” Adrien agrees, “Do you feel better now?”

“Maybe,” she buries her face in her pillow once again and peeks at him, “Can I please get out of bed now?”

Adrien props himself up on his elbow and glances over his shoulder, “Hey Tikki, can she get out of bed now?”

“Absolutely not!” the kwami appears in a blur of red, zooming up through the mattress into Marinette’s face, “You stay put!”

“Sorry Bug,” Adrien shrugs his shoulders and lays back down, “Rules are rules.”

“Rules are meant to be broken.”

“Not when they’re about your health.”

“I’m going to go crazy if I stay here any longer.”

“Then I’ll go crazy with you.”

Marinette scrunches up her face and huffs again for the umpteenth time, “I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re the single most intelligent person I’ve ever met.”

“Why are you making this so _haaaard?”_

Adrien brushes her bangs from her eyes and smiles like the lovesick fool he is, “Because you deserve to be told every single day how amazing and selfless you are. You do so much for everyone else it’s not even funny.”

Unsurprisingly, Marinette continues to sulk and Adrien takes advantage of her loss for words, “Which is why I am going to be your personal slave for the next week until you feel better. Anything you want, I will get it for you.”

Her eyebrow piques at his words, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Hmm…” she snuggles closer, the first sign that she wants to be anywhere near him since he’d dropped in through her skylight with her dizzy body in his arms last night and handed her to her terror-stricken parents, “Let me think about this.”

“You have all the time in the world,” Adrien breathes a sigh of relief, wrapping his free arm around her waist to tug her closer, “I’m not going anywhere.”

~

He’s four days into his enslavement and Adrien can honestly say that he’s enjoying it. He’d learned to make sandwiches and salads alongside Sabine and he’d taken up the slack at the bakery with Tom. Between quick visits to his hotel room to keep up appearances and his nightly jaunts as Chat Noir, Adrien had managed to fill his days by accomplishing a myriad of other things as part of his unsaid repayment to Marinette. Glass of water? Check. Foot rubs? Check. Orgasms?

_Check._

Marinette's hands grip the bed sheets as she pushes her hips up towards his mouth, constantly impatient for her next fix of pleasure. He's not complaining; if anything, the last few days have been another kind of vacation he hadn't realised he needed. He was learning new things and growing as a person…

...the growing bulge in his jeans was another story entirely.

Adrien pulls away for a moment to catch his breath and soaks her in, parting her swollen lips with his fingers. She's slick with desire and he dives in again, pressing his tongue just below her opening and licking upwards, relishing in the groan she makes. He loves being trapped between her thighs if it means giving her all of the pleasure he can, the familiar, warm scent of her flooding his senses. How many times had he done this now? And to think he'd been a lovesick virgin only six months ago, burning with the heat of their shared fever.

He repeats the up and down motion with his tongue a few times before changing tactics by bringing his fingers back into the fold, giving his jaw a quick break. Those small, circular motions have always been the key to getting her off and he slips two of his fingers inside her, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She shouts something into her palm as he strokes his fingers in and out, twisting his wrist here and there until she's bent her knees up and her toes are curling near his shoulders; it's a sure sign that she's close and he increases the speed and the strength of his thrusts, curling his fingers with every intermittent stroke.

Despite every effort to be quiet, Marinette’s groans permeate the space and Adrien can hardly keep his focus as he desperately tries not to grind himself against the mattress. He tries to reel himself in, if only for a few moments, and begins stroking her clit again as it throbs against his tongue.

“Aaaaadrien!” she cries between her fingers, her hips jerking upwards in the ultimate sign that he'd done his job right. She convulses around his fingers and Adrien slowly retreats as she recovers, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Sighing with something akin to satisfaction, Adrien crawls back up towards the head of the bed and tucks himself in under the sheets, closing his eyes until she finally stirs.

“Hey,” she says, her voice a little gravely, “Earth to Adrien.”

Adrien opens his eyes and yawns, “Sorry.”

“Don't tell me you're all tired out,” she replies with a smirk, draping her leg over his hip, “I was just getting started.”  
  
“Yeah?” Adrien tries for enthusiastic and finds his voice falling a little flat. Now that his head has hit the pillow, he's finding himself remarkably tired; how did Marinette balance all this? House duties, superhero duties, appointments, bakery shifts, not to mention the slaving. Like he said, Adrien wasn't complaining in the slightest; he was just exhausted from having to actually do things and use his brain, which was kind of embarrassing. How did he get so out of shape?

“What's the matter?”

Adrien jerks out of his reverie, “Huh?”

“You're spacing out on me,” Marinette reaches up and cups his cheek in her palm, rubbing his temple with her thumb, “What's going on in that big brain of yours? Is it the trial?”

Adrien cringes, “I guess? I don't know, I'm trying not to think about it.”

“Sorry,” Marinette scooches closer, “Did I just kill the mood?”

“No no,” he assures her, leaning into her touch, “My body killed the mood, not you.”

She gives him an incredulous look, “Your body?”

“I'm just kind of tired,” Adrien explains, stifling a yawn as he adjusts his briefs from beneath the sheets, “I've been so busy lately.”

“Wait a second,” Marinette’s expression goes from indulgent to downright murderous, “Four days of taking on my responsibilities and _you're tired? Really?!”_

Oh no.

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for the next chapter informally called: Adrien Gets Yelled At (a lot).
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	16. Week 10 (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to post this chapter for MONTHS.
> 
> Plot. Yelling. Plot. More yelling. Reveal?

_[Week 10]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Dishevelled]_   
_[Posture: Tense]_   
_[Attitude: Erratic]_   
_[Mood: Despondent]_

“I'm just kind of tired,” Adrien explains, stifling a yawn as he adjusts his briefs from beneath the sheets, “I've been so busy lately.”

“Wait a second,” Marinette’s expression goes from indulgent to downright murderous, “Four days of taking on my responsibilities and _you're tired? Really?!”_

Adrien’s eyes grow wide as she flies upwards into a seated position, her bare thighs still wet from their lovemaking not two minutes prior, “That’s not what I meant Marinette, I just—”

“I work _so_ hard all the time, I have two jobs and an internship and I spend every other minute as Ladybug making sure that the city doesn’t self destruct,” Marinette balls her hands into fists and pounds them onto the mattress, “And you think _you’re_ tired?!”

“That’s not—”

“No! You don’t get to make excuses!” Marinette cries, her cheeks burning red, “You are going to sit here and you are going to _listen_ to me because I have been nothing but supportive. And you know what?”

She doesn’t give him a chance to ask, “I have been patient. I have been calm. I have been forgiving. I have been a lot of things to you Adrien, because I can’t bear to see you sad. But here’s the thing: taking all of this on and pretending everything’s okay when it’s not? It sucks! It really _fucking sucks!_ ”

“Marinette—”

“See, I _thought_ I was doing fine. I thought I was just tired! And then you know what happened?” Marinette continues, tears beading in the corners of her eyes, “Master Fu came to my house while I was out as Ladybug a week ago and told my parents what was going on. He told them that I was transforming too much! That I needed to stop! That _I_ was the reason it’s been raining so much! That this is _all_ _my fault!_ ”

Adrien freezes, “What do you mean?”

“The Ladybug Miraculous can’t exist on its own without yours! And since you weren’t around anymore, I single handedly threw the entire balance of the universe out of whack by being transformed all the time! The rain and the high crime rate and every other horrible thing that’s happening in Paris is because I was transforming too much to try and stop it!”

“That can’t be right,” Adrien reaches out and winces when she bats him away, “None of this is your fault Marinette, this is on me.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not exactly responsible for almost flooding the city!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh you know, the typical doomsday apocalypse stuff,” she replies sarcastically, “Plagues of locusts, wiped out crops. Some of the worst floods in history were caused by a corrupted Ladybug Miraculous!”

Adrien’s never been doused with cold water, but he can certainly imagine what it feels like now, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she glances out through the window for a moment before turning back to him, “So excuse me if I’m just a little tired and pissed off.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“What? And make you upset?!” Marinette throws her hands into the air, “You’ve only _just_ managed to start acting like yourself again, I wasn’t going to ruin it by telling you that your absence as Chat Noir is the reason I nearly turned Paris into Atlantis.”

“Well now I know,” Adrien says flatly, his voice sounding faraway in his ears, “And if I had known that I was hurting you, I would have come back earlier.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Marinette responds with a scowl, “And I wasn’t going to be responsible for guilting you into coming back before you were ready if I had. Except my parents had had enough and did it for me.”

Adrien remembers the heated conversation in the bakery kitchen like it was only hours ago, “You should have been honest with me.”

“How about I be honest with you now and tell you to get out of my room?” Marinette says, throwing his shirt at him, “And don’t come back until I text you. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Fine,” Adrien knows a dead horse when he sees one. Hopping down from her bed platform, Adrien calls Plagg into his ring and lifts her trapdoor with entirely too much force, “Bye.”

“Bye.”

~

Chat’s ears are still ringing from the verbal smackdown Marinette had all but lambasted him with when he takes a shaky breath and calls upon Trou Noir, jumping through the floor of the Dupain-Cheng living room. Soaring through space for one gloriously guilt free moment, he lands in a crouch on the carpet in his dining room and heaves a huge sigh, rubbing his eyes. How could this week get any worse?

**“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”**

Chat leaps so high he nearly hits the ceiling at the bloodcurdling scream behind him.

“WHAT THE _FUCK?!”_

Landing on all fours, Chat Noir turns and shrieks, _“CHLOÉ?”_

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN ADRIEN'S ROOM?!”

Chat takes several steps back as Chloé launches herself off of the couch she'd been sitting on and barrels towards him, “Chloé, Miss Bourgeoise, I can explain—”

“YOU BETTER EXPLAIN WHAT YOU'RE DOING IN MY BEST FRIEND'S ROOM,” she threatens, shoving her index finger in his face, “OR I AM GOING TO CALL THE POLICE!”

“Please Chloé, just give me a—”

“SIT DOWN.”

Chat's knees buckle at the command and he falls into the nearest chair, his heart hammering in his chest. How is he supposed to get out of this one?

“Now listen to me,” Chloé stomps into his personal space and glares down at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “You are going to answer all of my questions and you are going to answer them RIGHT NOW, do you understand?”

Chat nods and tries not to pass out.

“Good! How did you get here?”

“Magic?”

Chloé scowls, “Fine. _Why_ are you here?”

“Uhhh,” Chat gulps, his mind going completely blank, “Because I...I'm getting something?”

 _“EEEHHNNN,”_ Chloé mimics the sound of a buzzer and nearly jabs her finger up his left nostril, “Wrong answer, so I'm going to ask you again. Why. Are. You. Here?”

There's a whole lot of nothing going on between his ears as Chat breathes in and out erratically, frozen with fright, “I'm uh...I’m here to see Adrien?”

“Wrong answer again!” Chloé shrieks, stomping her foot as Chat clamps his hands over his mouth and tries not to die, “You made that story up! If Adrien was actually friends with YOU, then I would know about it!”

“But—”

“Not only that, a REAL friend would have been there for Adrien all this time! And you? Where have you been? Where have you been for anyone?”

“I—”

“You left Ladybug all my herself!” Chloé screeches, throwing her hands into the air, “And no one has seen her since she fainted! And she lied for you! She said you got her home safely but I bet she just said that because she was trying to protect you!”

“No, that’s not—”

Chloé releases a frustrated scream and begins to vibrate aknew, “That's not how people are supposed to treat other people they love! And do you know how I know that? Because of Adrien! He's been at his stupid girlfriend's house for like, four days straight because she's sick!”

“Please Chloé, just let me—”

“No!” Chloé pushes him as hard as she can with a grunt, “I want you to get out of Adrien's room NOW!”

Chat’s mouth gapes open for several moments and he just barely manages to get up and out of the way as her palm comes down to slap him, “Stop Chloé! Stop!”

“NO!” she cries back, now actively chasing him around the room, “I don’t know what you want with my best friend but I’m not having it! Get out!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Chloé, it’s—”

She tries to throw a punch and misses by a kilometre, “I don’t want to hear _anything_ you have to say!”

“Stop it!” Chat raises his palms in surrender and considers doing something that will probably end his life if Marinette ever hears about it, “Give me like, three seconds to explain myself!”

“What if I don’t want to?!” Chloé picks up a chair and Chat decides he’s had enough, snatching her wrist out of midair, “Hey! Let me go!”

Chat briefly considers his options and swallows uncomfortably; is his friendship with Chloé really worth the live skinning Marinette will no doubt subject him to once she catches wind of what happened?

The tears in Chloé’s eyes are all the answer he needs.

_“Plagg, detransforme-moi!”_

For a long and terrible moment, all Adrien can hear is a strangled pause above the static electricity in his ears, his eyes closing on instinct as the volts of energy shoot up from his toes and expose him entirely as who he is underneath, blonde hair and green eyes and all. He feels like a failure, his heartbeat thumping a funeral dirge inside his chest as her arm goes slack in his grasp and he lets her go, his own arms hanging uselessly at his sides. He’s just waiting for the slap, the accusations, the screaming to begin anew; it’s been his entire day, his entire life really, and it reminds him that even though everything has changed all around him, nothing has really changed at all.

“ _...fait chier._ ”

Adrien opens one eye, then the other. Chloé looks like she’s been caught stealing then entire Louvre, which would have been hilarious if he didn’t feel like dying himself, “I’m sorry.”

His voice hardly carries above a whisper but it’s enough to break Chloé’s astonished stare, her feet shuffling backwards and away. The backs of her knees hit the couch and she collapses onto the satin cushions, her wide eyes never leaving his. She sits there for several moments and Adrien waits as patiently as he can, his blood curdling as a thousand and one awful scenarios start swirling around his head and all Adrien can think about is how his life is basically over and how mad everyone is going to be with him and he’ll be left with no friends and no family and no one in the end at all and—

“You’re...Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s fear-stricken eyes blink once, “Yes.”

“And you’ve been Chat Noir this whole time.”

“Yes.”

“And your father…” Chloé pales, “...is Le Papillon.”

“Yes.”

Fear doesn’t quite sit well on Chloé’s face, her features so used to being pulled into disdain that the look of abject horror appears like a mask, “Your father wanted to _kill_ you.”

Adrien nods and her words sink into him like a knife, “I know.”

She shakes her head and finally, _finally,_ looks away, “Holy shit.”

“I know.”

She stiffens and looks back up at him in a rush, “Wait, you’re dating Ladybug?”

“Uhh…” Adrien shakes his head at the sudden 180 degree turn, “...yes?”

“Are you...oh my god,” Chloé is on her feet at once, her eyes positively burning, “Are you cheating on Marinette with Ladybug?!”

“What?! I—” but Chloé is already talking over him, waving her arms in a second bout of frantic energy.

“Which means, and I mean...oh my god, you asshole! How could you?! And... _fait chier_ , Adrien, you have a sex tape with her! Oh my god, do you know how many times I’ve watched that?! I’ve seen you naked like, a million times! What the fuck Adrien?”

She chucks a pillow at him with decidedly less ill intention than before and begins to pace the room, “Have you told Marinette you’re sleeping with another girl? She’s going to kill you! Is that where you’ve been all this time? Having sex with Ladybug while Marinette’s been sick? Is she even sick? Is that just another lie you told me to hide your secret identity?!”

“No Chloé, I—”

She stops suddenly in her tracks and her eyes are twice as wide as before, “Ladybug collapsed the other night...is she...are you…”

Chloé takes a ragged breath, “Is she _pregnant?!_ ”

“NOO!” Adrien slaps his hand against his forehead and tries to recover the shreds of his dignity, “She’s...we’re...she’s on the pill!”

“Well that’s not going to protect you from Marinette once _I_ tell her you’ve been cheating in her with your superhero partner!”

“You can’t tell Marinette!” Adrien rushes towards her, “She can’t know that you know!”

“That I know what? That while she’s been laying in bed, you’ve been screwing the spots off Ladybug?”

“Oh my god Chloé no, that’s not what I’ve been doing!” Adren feels his blood pressure swell in his chest and his ears, his panic rising, “She knows I’m Chat Noir alright?!”

“ _She knows?!_ ” Chloé spits, “You told _her_ but you didn’t think to tell _your very best friend since we were in diapers?!”_

Adrien buries his fingers in his hair and tugs as hard as he can out of pure frustration. His head is pounding and he feels like crying; why couldn’t she just let him explain?!

“That’s not how it...that’s not—” Adrien cries, his vision blurring, “Just please Chloé, stop! Stop yelling!”

Whatever Chloé is about to say dies in her throat as Adrien sinks onto his haunches and slaps his palms over his ears, jamming his face into his knees. He feels that familiar hollowness from before, that horrible lethargy that creeps from the base of his spine and takes over like spiderwebs, paralyzing his heart. He thought he’d kicked this feeling, that awful sense of dread and loneliness that feels like the seas are rising up around him, leaving him with just a few centimeters to breath as the tide drags him downwards. He gasps for breath and finds there’s no more air, no more oxygen as gravity pushes him harder, anaesthetised and ultrasensitive all at once. It hurts, the burning in his throat and the burning in his ears and way his chest has all but caved in on itself, constructing his lungs like a vice around his heart and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts…

_“Adrien....Adrien…”_

He finds himself sometime later through the tingles in his toes, his feet having fallen asleep at some point. There’s someone behind him playing with his hair and Adrien lifts his head ever so slightly, peeking out from beyond the refuge of his knees to find the late afternoon sun streaming through his windows, bathing everything around him in rich reds and orange hues. There’s a glass of water to his right and Adrien recognises the bright pink pedicured toes of his best friend bracketing his hips, wriggling to the off key tune of an Ariana Grande song she’s been humming behind him.

“Did I ever tell you that I like your hair long?” she announces over his shoulder, tying off another braid with a micro elastic before moving over to another section of hair, “Now I finally have someone else to play hair stylist with.”

Adrien takes several moments to unglue his tongue from the top of his pallette, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she rustles all of the braids she’s made on the right side of his head so he can feel the fruits of her labour, “You’re going to love this. You look ridiculous.”

Adrien releases his breath and picks up the glass she’d set beside him, emptying it all in one go, “Are you going to post this on Snapchat?”

“Obviously,” she snorts, “Maybe your father will see it and have a heart attack while he’s at it.”

Chloé has everything money can buy, but tact? “I’d save a bundle in lawyer fees.”

“Yes you would,” she agrees, weaving another ridiculous braid at the base of his skull, “And now that I know that your life is so much worse than I thought it was, I am going to make it my business to make sure you win and your garbage father spends the rest of his life in jail.”

“So much worse than you thought?” Adrien raises a brow and rolls his shoulders, “And haven’t you already made this your business?”

“First of all, I was going to come to every court date to support you anyway, but now I have a _purpose_. I’m going to be like, your second lawyer, I’ve already decided.”

Adrien snorts and Chloé tugs on one of his braids a little harder than necessary, “I’ve been doing my research you dweeb, I know what I’m talking about. Like I already told you, I’m going to be the greatest politician of all time and I need to know these things, like every dirty little detail on your father’s lawyer, M. Ledroit. I have a source digging into his personal life as we speak.”

Adrien straightens up at the implication of her words, “You’re going to do what now?”

“Look, he tried to drag you through the press and now I’m going to drag him too, Chloé style. No one discredits my Adrichou and gets away with it! I’ve been working on this since we came home from Saint-Tropez, I even told Papa what I was up to and he thinks it’s a great idea!”

“Really?” Adrien asks, drumming a gentle pattern on her bare ankles as Chloé continues to braid his hair, “Isn’t that like...illegal or something?”

“Nothing’s illegal when you’re a politician,” she scoffs, “We can get away with anything and everything and speaking of which, you’re not getting away with what’s happening between you and Marinette, or shall we say _Ladybug_.”

Adrien jerks his head up and turns around, locking Chloé in with a wide eyed stare, “What?”

“Your tiny flying kitten told me everything,” Chloé slow blinks with a look of mock innocence, pointing up to the tiny god smirking at him from atop her perfect ponytail, “If you had just _told_ me Marinette was Ladybug at the beginning, I wouldn’t have totally freaked out on you!”

“You told her?!” Adrien panics, throwing his hands up into the air, “What the hell Plagg, Marinette is going to kill me!”

“You’ll be fine,” Plagg croons, curling a whisker around his paw with a self satisfied smirk, “No harm, no foul.”

Grimacing, Adrien glances between Chloé and Plagg several times before turning away, “She’s still going to murder me.”

“Relax Adrichou, it’s not the end of the world. I, for one, am not about to tell anyone about your secret identity,” she says, resuming her braiding, “Your secret is safe with me. You and I are a team too, you know. Anyone who wants to mess with you has got to get through me first.”

Adrien feels his eyes get a little foggy at the promise behind her words and he slumps, relaxing into the feeling of her fingers in his hair, “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” she responds, sounding a little watery herself, “Now, are you feeling any better yet?”

“A little,” he admits, taking a deep breath, “I’m kind of hungry.”

“I’ll have Gaspard bring dinner and wine up once I’m done braiding your hair. We’re gonna eat and drink like kings and queens and I’m going to paint your toenails and you’re going to tell me every one of the dirty little secrets you’ve been keeping from me, like what it’s like to have a sex tape with Ladybug.”

Adrien chokes on his own saliva and buries his face in his hands, “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“Because it was hot, that’s why,” Chloé snickers and Adrien can practically hear the smirk in her voice, “Your ass is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but Ladybug’s? Legendary.”

“You do realise this is Marinette you’re talking about right?”

“Just because I don’t like her doesn't mean I can’t admire her ass,” Chloé responds matter-of-factly, “At least now I understand why you started dating her. I thought you were just really dense or something.”

“Dense? Really?” Adrien snarks back.

“Models have a reputation you know,” she pats the top of his head placatingly, “But anyway, I’m not finished telling you about my plan.”

Adrien rolls his eyes fondly, “There’s more?”

“Obviously, this is me we’re talking about. I never do things halfway,” she explains, “You’re going to sleep over and then tomorrow, we’re going shopping. We’re going to get your girlfriend an apology present for being an asshole and I’m going to get you fitted at Cifonelli. As your secret second in command lawyer, it is my duty to make sure you have a gorgeous bespoke suit for the trial.”

Adrien’s jaw drops, “Cifonelli? As in, _the Cifonelli tailors_ ? Oh my god Chloé, my father is going to _hate_ you.”

“That’s _exactly_ why I’m doing it,” Chloé laughs, “I already booked the appointment and Massimo is practically bursting from the seams with excitement. An Italian tailor dressing the heir of the disgraced Gabriel Agreste? Oh, the press is going to _love it._ ”

“I can imagine,” Adrien relishes in the little pangs of pettiness, “You’re awful, you know that?”

“Anything for you Adrichou,” she ties the final elastic with a smap, “All finished. Now move over near the window, I need to Snap this.”

~

“Tiffany’s?”

“No.”

“Cartier?”

“No.”

“Chanel?”

“Come on Chloé, she’s not going to want anything like that. Marinette is...she’s going to want something with meaning.”

“...Piaget?”

“ _Ughhhh…”_

~

“Seriously? Another jewelry shop?”

“Girls love jewelry. Trust me, I’m a girl.”

“She’s not going to want jewelry Chloé.”

“How would you know? Have you ever asked her what she wants?”

“...touché.”

~

“Shut up and listen, she’s gonna love this one.”

Adrien sighs, “We’ve been in here for a half hour Chloé. What makes this one anymore special than the last one?”

“This,” she points to the sign beside the 18-carat rose gold pendant, “ _Symbolically, the “lien” is this thread that attaches two beings and draws their destiny closer. It surprises us in its relation to the other, the others, to the world and even to itself. The affective and sentimental dimension of the jewel emerges here, marking the important stages and experiences of a life._ Now, if that isn’t the most romantic LadyNoir thing I have ever read in my life, then I don’t know what is.”

“Oh,” Adrien peers into the case and reads the write up again, slower this time, “That _is_ pretty romantic.”

“And we have a winner!” Chloé claps her hands and waves the nearest employee over, shooting him a patented Chloé smile before pointing at the pendant, “Monsieur, I need this pendant gift wrapped immediately.”

“Of course Madame Bourgeois,” the man says obediently, slipping into the back.

~

Adrien is thrust into the gleaming sun several thousand Euros less wealthy when he walks out of Chaumet five minutes later, “I hope she likes it.”

“She’ll love it,” Chloé assures him, hooking her hand into his elbow, “It’s delicate and small, nothing flashy. And please, find me anyone who doesn’t like diamonds.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I’m always sure,” she readjusts her summer hat and smiles up at him, “Now, to plan your make-up date. I have the perfect restaurant in mind...

~

“She still hasn’t texted me to come over yet.”

Chloé looks up from the face mask package she’s been reading and makes eye contact with him through the bathroom mirror, “Give her until tomorrow. Don’t text her, that will just make it worse.”

“Yeah?” Adrien slaps the last of his charcoal mask across his cheeks and stares despondently at his own reflection, “Are you sure?”

“Very sure. She’ll come to you when she’s ready,” Chloé replies, pouring her own pink rose mask onto her fingers, “But until then, we are going to continue Operation: Adrien Relaxes and Beautifies Himself So He Looks Positively Radiant On His Make-Up Date. Now, go pour the champagne, I’ll be right out.”

“Alright,” Adrien slips out of the bathroom and pops the cork off the bottle as she approaches behind him, “Hey Chloé?”

“Yes?”

He fills her flute and then his own, passing it to her, “Thank you, for everything.”

Chloé is a lot of things, but grateful usually isn’t one of them, “You’re welcome obviously. Without me, God knows where you’d be. But anyways, it’s time to relax. What movie do you want to watch first?”

“Love Actually?”

_“Again?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Chloé as an actual half decent human being. I hope you enjoy reading it too.
> 
> Next chapter is a good one and it will be the final one before the trial begins. Readers, if you have any background in legal stuff and want to help a writer out, please message me on Tumblr at ao3bronte. I need help on how a court would actually charge him with terrorism as well as a few other things.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	17. Week 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a week early! Why? I won't be around next weekend due to work commitments, so here you are!

_[Week 11]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Composed]_   
_[Posture: Tense]_   
_[Attitude: Mostly Cooperative]_   
_[Mood: Nervous]_

Adrien adjusts his hair for the umpteeth time and slides on the thick, black rimmed glasses he’d picked up on the way back from the cinemas with Nino at the dépanneur on the corner. He’d popped the lenses out weeks ago and they seemed to do the trick for the most part; who knew that wearing a pair of glasses could make you entirely unrecognisable to the rest of Paris?

“You look perfect,” Chloé assures him, adding hashtags to her latest Instagram post on his bathroom counter, “Well, almost. I think you’d look better in the outfit I set out for you.”

“But aren’t jeans a little...I don’t know, too casual?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Chloé points to the black Balmain skinny jeans hanging off the bathroom door knob, “You look adorable in skinny jeans. They make your butt look perky.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my butt?” Adrien turns to the side and checks himself out in the mirror, “I like the slacks look, honestly.”

“Nope, take them off,” Chloé insists and prods him in the side with her toes, “Put the jeans on.”

“ _Fiiine_ ,” he sighs, unbuttoning his cotton trousers and letting them drop to the floor, “Ugh, why am I so nervous?”

“I have no idea,” Chloé smirks as him, wriggling her eyebrows up and down and he shimmies the jeans up his thighs, “Maybe because it took her four whole days to agree to go on a date with you? That, and you’ve never taken her out on an actual date before?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he grouses, shoving his hand down the front of his jeans in an attempt to adjust himself, “It makes me sound like an awful boyfriend.”

“Maybe you are,” she shrugs and the glare he gives her could splinter wood, “But all that changes tonight. You’re going to wine and dine her and treat her like she’s the second most important person in your life.”

Adrien raises a brow, “I’m assuming you’re the first?”

“Obviously,” Chloé sticks her nose into the air but she’s smiling, her haughty mask entirely transparent, “She may be Ladybug, but there’s only one person in the entire world who would still love you after seeing you completely wasted, naked and singing Thank U, Next at the top of your lungs to the whales you thought you saw in the Med when we were in Saint-Tropez. And that’s me, by the way.”

Adrien groans at the memory, “That was the worst hangover of my life.”

“Agreed,” Chloé shivers, “But it was _so_ worth it. Could you have gotten away with that with Marinette?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly, which is why it’s important to have friends outside of your crazy secret relationship that’s definitely not going to be a secret anymore after tonight. How many people know you’re boning my arch-nemesis exactly?”

“‘Boning my arch-nemesis?’ Really?” Adrien shakes his head, “You have such a poetic way with words Chloé.”

“Answer the question.”

“You, her parents, Nino and Alya. Maybe a few of Marinette’s other friends?”

“Well, they’re all going to know soon if the media catches you,” Chloé hops off the counter and adjusts the collar of his black Burberry poplin shirt, “So don’t lose your cool. Keep calm and carry on, right?”

“Right,” Adrien nods, stealing another quick glance at himself in the reflection, “You’re right, these do make my ass look good.”

“I’m always right Adrichou,” Chloé snickers and leads the way out of the bathroom, snatching his mobile and wallet off of the desk before handing them to him, “Plagg? Where are you?”

Plagg appears as if on cue, grinning behind the entire quarter of Morbier that Chloé had brought with her, “Yes, _mon amour?_ ”

“Make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid,” she coos at him, scratching him on the belly with a perfectly manicured fingernail. Adrien rolls his eyes at their antics, having gotten quite used to the sudden saccharine camaraderie between the two of them over the past four days, “And if he does, I want to hear all about it, got it?”

Plagg pops the cheese into his mouth and gives her a quick wink, disappearing with a whiz inside Adrien’s shirt pocket. Shaking his head fondly, Adrien heads to the door and pauses to hold it open as Chloé follows him out, “I’ll text you and let you know how it goes.”

“You better,” she flicks him in the chest and walks him to the elevator, “My limo is waiting for you outside. He’ll take you to pick up Marinette and drive you both to the restaurant but after that, you’re on your own.”

“It’s only twenty minutes away from the bakery, we’ll be fine,” Adrien responds, pressing the down button, “She’s still not allowed to do much, but her parents gave me the okay when I asked.”

“Good,” Chloé waves as he enters the elevator, “And good luck!”

“Thank you!” he calls back, watching the doors close in front of him, “I’m going to need it.”

~

Even with the air conditioning running at full blast, Adrien still feels like he’s sweated half his body weight onto the fine leather interior of the limousine. Why was he so nervous to take her out to dinner? They had dinner at her house all of the time and there was never any issue? Except the first time of course, and it feels like the first time all over again. Why was doing new things for the first time so hard?

 _“You’re not sick Adrien,”_ Docteur Renée had said to him a good month ago, her voice as constant in the back of his mind as Plagg’s is when he’s Chat Noir, _“Everyone experiences the fear of failure at one point or another. It’s up to you whether or not you let that fear stop you from achieving your goals.”_

The bakery looms into sight. He’s here. She’s here. Oh god.

The limo stops in front of her door and Adrien all but throws himself out of the vehicle to hold the door open, tripping and catching himself on the boot. Marinette hardly looks impressed but steps into the limo anyway and Adrien releases his breath, following her inside.

“You look beautiful,” he says after several awkward beats, still too afraid to look at her beyond the odd side glance, “Is that the dress I bought for you in Saint-Tropez?”

“It is,” she replies, straightening out the pleats of the fitted sheath dress Chloé had picked out from Basil Soda, “I love the palette. It’s soft but...energetic. I’ve never worn something this expensive before.”

At the soft tone of her voice, Adrien finally finds it within himself to turn and soak her in. The way the dawn rose of the fabric brings out the soft blush of her cheeks makes him thankful he’s sitting, all things considered. How did she make the white straps of her dress look like stardust? How did the onyx flowers of embroidered lace draped along her right side come to life with every breath she took?

“Adrien?”

It’s only after her quiet prompting that he manages to scrape his jaw from the floor, “Sorry. It’s just ah, you um...it’s...you’re…”

Marinette finally cracks a smile, “Cat got your tongue?”

“I, uh…” Adrien sputters, his cheeks turning a ruddy shade of cherry at her words. He feels like it’s February all over again, lost and entirely unsure of what the hell he’s supposed to be doing. It’s like he’s nine and he’s watching romantic films with tears in his eyes; it’s like the first time he saw her smile on the day they met and he felt his heart leap into his throat. She could reduce him to a helpless mess in a heartbeat with a single look and Adrien would fall for her every time, hopelessly devoted to her.

“We’re here,” she announces, tapping him lightly on the hand, “I’m starving.”

Snapping to attention, Adrien once again hops out of the limousine and holds the door, taking her hand in his as she steps onto the cobbled streets of _l’Ile Saint-Louis_. He doesn’t remember the name of the restaurant but Marinette seems to know where she’s going and leads them inside the small, cozy former butcher shop. The exposed stone walls and dark wood accents flicker with candlelight, bathing the space in a romantic glow that sucks the breath from his lungs. He catches Marinette eyeing the dozens of towering flower vases dotting the tables as the hostess leads them to their table for two in the corner, a little hideaway just for them.

“I’ve never been here before,” Marinette breathes, reaching up to touch the petal of the enormous anthurium hanging over her head, “I’ve heard of it though. It’s supposed to be really good.”

“Same here,” Adrien loosens the top button of his shirt and tries desperately to relax, “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she responds, picking up her menu, “You have more experience with fine wines than I do.”

“True,” he mutters back, glancing at the list. He picks out a bottle of _Vieux Château Certan 2013_ and the waiter assigned to their table brings it by swiftly, pouring them each a glass, “How does the menu look?”

“Good. I think you’ll like a few things on the menu,” Marinette peeks up from over the leather holder, “You’ve become much more adventurous lately.”

“I can’t believe all of the foods I’ve been missing out on all my life,” he picks up his own menu and begins to skim, “I’d eat pretty much all of these.”

“Me too, I’m going to have a hard time choosing.”

“Ooh, I like risotto right?”

“You do. You’d probably enjoy the terrine too.”

“It looks good, but I kind of have my eye on the salmon.”

“Mmm, I love salmon,” Marinette disappears back behind the menu, “There’s fois gras on here twice. Must be good.”

“Now that’s something I’ve had before,” Adrien thinks back to all of the traditional meals he’d had over the years and skips over those two entrées entirely, “I think I’ll have the salmon as my entrée and the lamb as my main.”

“ _Carré d'agneau en croûte de moutarde et miel?_ Sounds delicious,” Marinette sets her menu down on top of his and smiles, “I’m getting the terrine and the duck confit.”

“Can we share a little? I love duck,” he says, melting as she laces their fingers together from across the table.

“Of course, mon minou,” she squeezes her hand around his and he feels like he’s in heaven, “So what’s all this then? Your apology?”

He ducks his head and nods, “I...yeah. That and we’d...well, we’ve never been on a real date before and I wanted to...I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you and I want to kind of well, do this,” he gestures between the two of them, “You know, officially.”

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend officially?” Marinette says with a wry smile and Adrien feels like an idiot.

“You’re already my girlfriend,” he takes a shaky breath and tries not to squirm, “We just never made it a public thing.”

“I didn’t realise I had to announce my love for you to the world,” she slides the stem of her wine glass between the fingers of her other hand, “Are you expecting a media swarm?”

“No, or at least I hope not. That's what the glasses are for.”

“Ah yes, the Clark Kent effect,” she takes a sip and swirls the wine in her mouth for a moment, “Mm, this is good.”

“Agreed,” he replies, glancing at the bottle, “You can't go wrong with a Bordeaux.”

“I've always wanted to see more of France,” she leans back, bringing the rim back to her lips, “I've lived in Paris all my life and I've only ever visited Saint-Malo and Vichy, which is where my uncles and aunts live.”

“I didn't know that,” he responds, his eyes grazing the neckline of her dress before glancing back up into her eyes, “I'll take you, one day. Anywhere you want, I'll take you there.”

“I'm a little busy defending Paris to go on vacation.”

“Paris will be fine for a few days without the two of us, I'm sure.”

“Maybe later,” she brushes her bangs from her eyes and sets her now empty glass back down, “I've missed an entire week of my internship and I can't afford to take another day off, let alone a week.”

“I'm sorry,” he blurts and immediately regrets it, “I mean it's not, I...it's just—”

“It's fine Adrien, I get it,” she waves him off, “You were distracted by everything else going on in your life, and even though I yelled at you about it, I don't hate you for it,” she takes a deep breath, “We're not always going to get along, no matter how compatible we're supposed to be. It's silly to think that we won't have our ups and downs.”

Adrien takes another sip, pausing respectively as the waiter comes by to refill her glass, “I know. I'm just...I'm just sorry that I wasn't able...wait, let me rephrase,” he takes another deep breath of his own, “I'm just sorry that I wasn't there. I should have been but...can I just...can I just confess something?”

Marinette squeezes his hand again, “Absolutely.”

“Well, I...all of this, it's been really hard,” he begins, staring intently at a divot in the tablecloth fabric, “I don't think I ever really learned how to deal with anything as a kid except disappointment, and even then I had a thousand and one distractions in my room to...I don't know, keep me occupied I guess. I didn't really understand until lately how much I can affect another person because I was always just...shut away.”

“Being Chat Noir changed all that because I could finally get out of the house and just...be myself. I could be stupid and do parkour and fall a thousands metres and still be alive...but it clearly didn't teach me enough,” Adrien continues, “Because I still treated you just like my father treated me. I put my own needs before anyone else’s and I never want to do that to you again.”

“That's not true and you know it,” Marinette replies, drawing his gaze back to hers, “You needed time to heal and I get that, trust me. Running around, overcompensating for your absence, that was me trying to heal too. We both screwed up Adrien, and you're not the only one to blame.”

“I…”

The earnest look in her eyes is all he needs as their entrées are slid in front of them, “I think the key to this, to us, is honesty. I wasn't honest with you about what happened to me as Ladybug, and if I knew then what I know now, I would have been a little more understanding.”

Adrien nods, “If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have been such an enormous asshole.”

“You had a perfectly good reason for being an enormous asshole,” Marinette snickers, sliding her fork through her terrine, “And you apologised for it and got help. You've made a lot of progress since starting therapy.”

“Thank you,” Adrien says, smiling behind the swell of pride as he digs into his salmon, “I think so too.”

They continue to eat with relative ease after that, chatting idly about their food and the ambiance. Their mains come by twenty or so minutes later and Marinette laughs as Adrien nearly cries over his lamb and how good it is, their cheeks growing rosy from the good wine and company.

“As far as first dates go, I think this is a good one,” Marinette comments as she spreads a slice of chèvre onto her cracker during the cheese course, “What do you think?”

“It's been perfect,” Adrien agrees, “No one has recognised us, the food has been amazing and we're both happy.”

She shakes her head fondly, “I can't believe the glasses are working.”

“If they do recognise me, I wonder what they'll say,” Adrien pops a wedge of Beaufort in his mouth and chews thoughtfully, “Heir of Disgraced Agreste Empire at Restaurant with Mystery Woman!”

“Who could she be? A rock star? A foreign exchange student?” Marinette plays along, snagging the other piece of cheese he'd been eyeing, “Doesn’t the press have anything better to do? I mean, did you read the latest Ladybug rumours? Last I heard, I’m actually cheating on my real life husband with you and now I’m pregnant with your child.”

Adrien begins to giggle, completely impressed with the way she’d managed to say that with a straight face, “Actually, _Le Parisien_ reported that we’re having twins together and honestly? I’m a little insulted that you don’t even know how many kids were having.”

“Oh god,” Marinette finally breaks down and begins laughing in earnest, “Why do we do this to ourselves?”

“Because we’re celebrities? And apparently Paris _really_ ships us?”

Marinette cups her cheek in her palm and leans into it, her expression disbelieving, “I just...I’m never going to get used to this.”

“You’re going to have to,” Adrien responds, slipping the last piece of Roquefort passed his lips, “You’re dating me. Once that hits the press, you know it’ll get a little crazy.”

“I know,” she sighs and watches silently as the waiter takes the empty plate away, “I guess it’ll be worth it.”

“I guess?” Adrien raises a brow as Marinette sticks out her tongue, “I think you’re cut off. No more wine for you.”

“Meanie.”

“I’m the one who has to drag you home,” Adrien grazes his nails up and down the bare skin of her wrist, “But before that, I want to give you something.”

“You want to…” Marinette’s eyes grow wide, “You got me something?”

“I did,” Adrien takes the felt bag that had been burning a hole in his pocket all evening and sets it in her palm, “I wasn’t sure what to get you so I...well, Chloé helped me pick it out.”

“Is it poisonous?” Marinette says with wry smirk but brings it closer nonetheless. She tugs the little drawstring open and pours the contents into her waiting hand, her eyes growing wide at what she sees, “Is this...did you buy me a necklace?”

“Do you like it?” Adrien asks in a rush, suddenly sweating all over again, but her entire focus is drawn to the chain and the delicate criss-cross of rose gold and diamonds sitting in her palm, gleaming in the ambient candlelight like a wisp of flame. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed with emotion as she looks up at him and back down at the jewellery in her grasp several times before finally resting her gaze on his.

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” she gushes, hooking the chain on her index finger and holding the pendant aloft, “It’s...Adrien, _thank you._ ”

Adrien sags in relief and scrambles to his feet as Marinette unfastens the clasp. He’s behind her in a blink of an eye, his fingers gently taking each side of the chain and refastening it at the nape of her neck, his thumbs brushing the exposed skin of her back ever so slightly, the softest touch. Marinette shivers and her expression speaks louder than words ever could as he sits back down, pinned beneath the heat of her gaze.

“How does it look?” she asks, completely ignoring the _moelleux au chocolat_ their waiter had placed in front of them to share. Adrien tugs on his collar and swallows against the wave of desire that threatens to tug him into the tidal waters, his eyes drawn to her décolletage.

“Gorgeous,” he croaks, swallowing the urge to hide behind his hands. How did she manage to make him feel so happy and horny at the same time?

Marinette grins at his obvious internal mayhem and slips her spoon into the chocolate cake, scooping up a generous mouthful. She leans across the table and holds it in front of his lips, her smile positively sinful.

“The faster we eat this, the faster we can get home.”

~

“Oh god,” Marinette murmurs, completely bare save for the diamond necklace around her throat. Straddling his thighs, she sighs as Adrien runs his tongue against her nipple and she’s running her hands through his hair and it’s something he’ll never get bored of, the desire to give pleasure at odds with his burning need to take it. Groaning, he clasps his teeth firmly around her sensitive bud and her body jerks upwards in his grasp, crying out in surprise at the sudden burst of pain.

“Adrien,” she moans as her back arches, pushing her breasts even harder against his mouth. He sucks gently and flicks his tongue, her nipple still held firmly between his teeth, “I...god, please.”

Never ceasing his ministrations, Adrien draws his free hand across her body, caressing her stomach and thighs before settling near her curls. Throwing her head back in submission, Marinette spreads her knees farther, a silent invitation as her anticipation rises and Adrien leans back to admire his work.

“Your necklace looks even better from this perspective,” he remarks, his bashfulness from before long forgotten as he kisses his way across to her other breast. She gasps as he clenches down with his teeth and subjects her other nipple to the same divine treatment, delighting in the way she squirms from the conflicting feelings of pleasure and pain. He knows what she likes though — he always has — and he doesn’t back down; she’d kill him if he did, what with the evidence of her arousal soaking his fingertips as her runs them lightly between her folds. He teases her for several moments before finally acquiescing and rubbing his thumb along her clit, shuddering when she tugs his hair just so and jerks her hips forwards, desperate for more.

“Hurry...hurry up,” she says breathlessly, dragging his head back as he looks up to grin at her.

“Why?” he asks, his fingers still drawing patterns between her thighs, “Have somewhere to go?”

She bats him on the shoulder, “No, I just…”

“You just...what?”

Marinette blushes profusely, “I’m just...kind of drunk and really horny.”

“Oh,” Adrien begins to snicker in earnest, “Well then, I won’t keep you waiting.”

Kissing down her ribcage, Adrien drops onto his belly and rolls over, positioning his face between her thighs. They’ve only ever done it like this once but Adrien has fantasized about it on more than one occasion, wrapping his arms around her thighs and gently urging her downwards.

“What are you— _agh!_ ”

Adrien runs the flat of his tongue from her entrance to her clit, sufficiently tossing her train of thought off the rails and into the neighbouring ravine. Her hands are back in his hair again and he doesn’t regret a thing as he uses his tongue to tease her senseless, sliding inside of her ever so slightly before drawing back out to tease her clit once again. He keeps his pattern spur of the moment, determined to keep her as off balance as possible as he encourages her to the brink of orgasm, the position certainly helping things along. She’s quite determined to get off on his face and he’s just as determined to deny her, to draw this out for his own enjoyment because she’s wearing his jewellery and the embarrassing instinct to claim her has never reared its head as desperately as it is now.

“Please, please, _please…_ ”

Pinching her side, Marinette jerks upwards and the motion leaves just enough space for him to escape her clutches, rolling back onto his knees in a feat of agility borne from the impulse to make her his, fully and completely. He spins her around and pushes her into the mattress, crawling up her body in a purely predatory way, slow and hungry. She wraps her legs around his waist and reaches down, positioning him at her entrance and keens, scrabbling for friction, anything really, anything to give her the release that she needs.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against her lips before he can stop himself, punctuating his confession with a kiss intended to steal the breath from her lungs. She kisses him back just as passionately, her opinion clearly on the same wavelength as he presses inside her, stretching her wide. Filling her completely, he pulls back until just the tip of his cock is inside of her before starting all over, murmuring endearments as he kisses down her neck and clipping the chain of her necklace with his teeth. It’s with intense awareness of their evening together, the way she’d worn his gifts to her with pride that he slides himself slowly but firmly back inside, his tempo increasing with every buck of her hips.

“Faster,” she begs against the shell of his ear and he’s helpless to oblige, hoisting one of her legs up and over his shoulder with little effort. It changes everything and Adrien’s forehead falls onto her pillow with a soft thunk, drunk with the sensation of just how wet she is. He groans and lets it all go, closing his eyes and listening her soft cries as he thrusts harder, pushing her forcibly back into the mattress with each and every stroke. He can feel her twitching already and he reaches down blindly between them, nudging her clit once, twice, three times until her body freezes with a low gasp, then suddenly arching into him. The sensations on his cock are just enough to send him over his own precipice, driving him inside of her until he can’t stand it any longer, her name a gasp on his lips.

Robbed of his energy, Adrien just barely manages to roll off of her and onto his side, groaning all the while. He cracks one eye open and finds her smiling breathlessly with one eye open too.

“That was...mmph,” Marinette doesn’t quite manage to get all her words out properly and it makes Adrien smirk, his diamond necklace glittering innocently against her collarbone. He picks it up and fiddles with it, watching it gleam in her bedside lamp light.

“Will you wear this often?” he asks, delighting in the way their bodies seem to melt together so perfectly.

“As long as it goes with my outfit,” Marinette replies, watching him a little blearily. He grins and presses a quick kiss to the tip of her nose before wrapping his arm around her, hugging her body to his chest.

“Can I stay the night?”

She grins and settles in against him, “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of Arc 2. Next time, we go into the Trial Arc which is shaping up to be an insane monster I didn't know I was capable of creating. There will be social media and testimonies and all the drama of a legal thriller except I still have no idea what I'm doing. And yes, I'm still looking for someone with legal experience, by the way. Drop me a line!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	18. Week 13-14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, huge apologies for being a week late. The flu snuck up on me and ransacked my house, ate all my food and bludgeoned me half to death. I've had the flu before but never this bad...I'm still sick as hell but at least I can sit up long enough to edit this chapter and send it out.
> 
> But without further ado, welcome to The Trial Arc. Please be advised that I'm not a law professional; everything you're seeing came from TV shows, research and a reader who reached out to me with a history in law practice who was very helpful in telling me how these big trials work. So thank you, and enjoy!

_[Week 13-14]_  
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_  
_[Appearance: Composed]_  
_[ Posture: Tense]_  
_[Attitude: Mostly Cooperative]_  
_[Mood: Nervous]_

Adrien flops back onto the chaise and groans, staring up at the ceiling. It’s early evening and the vibrant colours of sunset paint the plaster walls of his therapist’s office in technicolour, the hazy pinks and midnight orange hues mixing into a painting more beautiful than anything he’s seen in the Louvre. It’s beautiful, but ultimately fleeting.

Adrien tries not to see the irony of it all.

“So things are better with Marinette now I take it?” Docteur Renée asks, following the line of his gaze with her eyes. Adrien takes several moments to respond, sticking his arm straight up to cast a shadow on the wall.

“Much better,” Adrien replies, wriggling his fingers and watching the shadows form, “She’s better now and she can do the things she usually does again, just not as often.”

“That’s great news,” she raises her own arm and casts a dog shadow puppet beside Adrien’s hand, “And what about Chloé? Last time you were here, you told me that you and her had a heart to heart.”

“We did,” Adrien adds his other hand to the mix and forms a crane, “She and I have come to an...understanding I guess. She knows something about me that I’ve never really told anyone else about and...well, it made things between us better and worse.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s nice that I don’t have to hide this part of me with her anymore,” Adrien says, his crane turning into a rooster, “But now she’s even more determined to help me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Well, it’s not necessarily a good thing,” Adrien grouses as Docteur Renée’s dog takes a bite out of Adrien’s shadow, “But she means well, and I know that.”

Docteur Renée smirks as Adrien's shadow turns into a crocodile and begins to retaliate, “And what’s her latest hairbrained scheme? I remember you telling me last time that she was looking into finding some dirt on Gabriel’s lawyer.”

“Yeah, although I don’t know how well that’s going,” Adrien lies, knowing full well how it’s going. Chloé had tapped into her former best friend’s father as an asset in the police department and Lieutenant Raincomprix was apparently being quite helpful now that a few Euros had exchanged hands, “No, Chloé has an entirely new plan now.”

“Go on.”

“Believe it or not, it was actually Marinette's idea initially,” Adrien says, chasing her dog across the plaster, “Remember when I told you about the non-profit hospital charity thing?”

“I do.”

“Well Chloé has officially claimed that as her own idea and has started everything on my behalf…” Adrien lets his hands drop to his sides, “I'm not sure how I feel about it, to be honest.”

“Well, let's start with why it makes you feel uneasy?”

“It's a lot of work, first and foremost.”

“All good things take work.”

Adrien shoots her a glance, “I know that.”

“So what is it then?” Docteur Renée tips her head to the side and watches him closely, “You don't want to put in the effort?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“It’s not an accusation, just an observation,” she amends, leaning back, “But everyone seems to like this idea except you. Why is that?”

“It's _too_ much work!”

“Is it though?”

“I...it's not that simple.”

“Why not?” Docteur Renée takes a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders, “What’s holding you back? And don’t tell me you’re too busy, you’re just using that as an excuse and you know it.”

Adrien hates it when she calls him out on his bullshit, “Fine. It’s the expectations that people are going to have of me. I just don’t want to be a public figure anymore.”

“Now _that’s_ a more believable answer,” Docteur Renée nods her head with a smile, “And I can absolutely understand why you don’t want to be in the public eye anymore but, that being said…”

“I’m Adrien Agreste, the celebrity son of a terrorist about to enter the trial of the century,” Adrien finishes her sentence flatly, pouting at the ceiling, “So long as I’m alive, I’ll always be famous in one way or another.”

“You could always take your savings and buy yourself an island in the middle of the Pacific,” she jokes, throwing him a little wink, “But I don’t think that would be fair to the people that love you and care about you.”

“No…” he trails off and sighs miserably, “I’m going to be staying in Paris for the meantime. As long as Marinette and Nino and Chloé are here anyway.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Keep wearing disguises I guess.”

“A good, but temporary plan. Someone is going to recognise you eventually.”

“Well I don’t know what else I can do,” he snips back, “I can’t exactly get a real job.”

“You could look to your friends for inspiration. Marinette is a burgeoning fashion entrepreneur. You’ve shown me her Etsy shop, she’s made some incredible creations. And Nino, he’s started his own business freelancing as a DJ for parties,” Docteur Renée lists them on her fingers, “And Chloé, she wants to be a politician and now she wants to set up a non-profit for you which, by the way, is no easy feat. All of your friends are hard working, tenacious and capable and they still manage to have free time to spend with you.”

“But how can I keep up with that?” Adrien says after several beats, his voice sounding small in his ears, “What if I fail at it? What if I’m the worst non-profit CEO of all time?”

“First of all Adrien, you’re staring small,” Docteur Renée reassures him, “No one is even going to know about this in the beginning. A little donation here, a little donation there and that’s it. And then if that works, then you do a little bit of online crowdfunding and get some other people involved. But you go slow. _Veeerrry slow._ No rushing, no biting off more than you can chew. And then if that goes well, Chloé can hold a fundraising event at _La Grande Paris_ and you can hide in a corner and let her run the show if that makes you feel better.”

Adrien lays very quietly for several moments and soaks up her words. It doesn’t seem half bad when she puts it like that, but still…

“I guess I could talk to Chloé about it.”

“A great start!” Docteur Renée grins, clapping her hands together, “I promise, once you give it a try, you’re going to find that it’s a great use of your free time.”

“But what about the trial?”

“Keep the plan in your thoughts and use it as a distraction so you’re not stressing out about the trial twenty four seven,” she suggests, “I know it starts next week but you don’t even need to take the stand until day four. There’s no need for you to be there if you don’t want to.”

“I feel like I should though...this is...it’s…”

“It’s okay to feel conflicted about it. You don’t have to make any decisions now or tomorrow or even next week. It’s okay to play it by ear and let your lawyer keep you updated.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” she says, lacing her fingers together, “I’ll be there too to testify on your behalf and to give my psychological evaluation of Gabriel as well.”

Adrien frowns as the colours of the sunset begin to diminish behind the cityscape, “When did you meet with him?”

“Last week,” she shakes her head, “I can’t divulge what transgressed, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien murmurs, wrapping his arms around his waist, “Can I ask one thing though?”

“Ask and I’ll tell you if I can.”

Adrien nods and swallows with some difficulty, overthinking his question. Did he even want to know the answer? A small part of him tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care either way but in his heart of hearts...

“Did he...did he ask about me?”

Docteur Renée doesn’t speak for several moments and Adrien wonders if he should repeat the question, but a quick glance her way reveals that she hadn’t misheard him at all.

“He didn’t.”

~

Chat Noir lands on the _Arc de Triomphe_ and wipes the automotive grease from his baton off on the front of his suit before holstering it, sitting with a sigh. After the wildest car chase across Paris he’s ever participated in, he needs a breather before he can head back to his hotel room and he wonders briefly how hard it will be to get the motor oil out of his hair. Would he need a special shampoo or something? Does he look cool with black streaks in hair? Sighing, he lets his feet dangle off the ledge and keeps his eyes peeled for the familiar silhouette in the distance that’s bound to make an appearance at any moment now that their split patrol has come to an end.

“Mon minou, I could hear you thinking all the way from _Sainte-Chapelle_.”

Chat turns around with a start and half expects his heart to leap out of his chest, “Ladybug! A little warning?!”

“Like you’ve never snuck up on me before,” Ladybug flicks him in the nose before sitting beside him, “Now spill. What’s going on?”

Chat sighs and leans his head onto her shoulder, “I made a big decision today.”

Ladybug straightens with interest, “And what did you decide?”

“I decided...I decided to take your advice.”

Ladybug wraps her arm around his waist and scooches closer, “Advice about what?”

“About the non-profit. I decided to go through with it.”

“Good!” Ladybug hooks her thumb in his belt loop and begins to brush her fingers idly against his hip, “I'd pretend to be surprised but...well, I already knew.”

Chat's eyes fly open, “You did?!”

“I did,” Ladybug replies, “Chloé told me.”

 _“She did?!”_ Chat sits up and stares at her in blatant shock, “You guys _talked?_ ”

“We did,” Ladybug nods, maintaining eye contact, “She was strangely civil about it. She even asked me if I would help.”

“Wow,” Chat remains owl eyed for the longest time, too distracted to notice the dangerous gleam in her expression as she continues.

“She asked me to take some photos for the website and offered to Photoshop you and Chat Noir together. Apparently she's an expert at photo editing. Who knew?”

“Yeah, she mentioned that the other day,” Chat responds offhandedly, still entirely unaware of her narrowing glare, “She's actually really good at it.”

“Oh, I'm not doubting her at all,” Ladybug cups her chin in her palm and leans forwards, “I'm fact, I think she'll do a great job. My problem is that I simply can't understand why she thinks she would need Photoshop in the first place.”

Chat Noir opens his mouth to respond when the implications of her words finally dawns on him, “...uhhhh...”

“Tell me something Chat,” she tips her head to the side and watches him, her stare positively carnivorous, “And I want you to be very _very_ honest with me.”

Chat nods and feels his whole body shiver.

“ _How_ exactly did Chloé figure out that you're Chat Noir?”

“It was an accident?” he says and it comes out as a question, her focus never wavering, “I used Trou Noir to get back to my hotel room and Chloé was in there waiting for me.”

Ladybug hums, entirely unimpressed, “And how long has she known about your secret identity?”

“Two weeks?”

“Interesting.”

Chat rubs the back of his neck and pointedly avoids her gaze, “Yeah.”

“And she swore to keep it a secret, right?”

“Absolutely,” Chat nods vigorously, “One hundred percent. That's why she wanted to do the non-profit thing, to prove we're two different people and to give me something good to do. My therapist pretty much summed it up for me today; I'll never be able to have a normal job so I may as well be like you guys and do my own thing.”

“I see,” Ladybug’s eyes darken and the look she gives him sends frissons down his spine, “I'm just a little confused about something.”

Chat blinks, “What?”

“Well, I just find it a little strange that when I brought it up, you completely shut me down, but when Chloé brought it up, you're suddenly on board.”

“That's different,” Chat shakes his head, “You mentioned it ages ago. I wasn't ready then.”

“And I also mentioned it again just the other week when I was stuck in bed,” Ladybug responds, her voice taking on a slight edge, “But apparently it needs to come from someone else for you to listen.”

“That's not true,” Chat implores, turning towards her, “This was just one of those things that I needed to work through myself before I committed to it.”

“Mmhmm,” Ladybug finally turns away from him, tipping her head up high, “I think I'm going to head home now. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Ladybug is up on her feet and swinging her yoyo before he has a chance to react, “Wait!”

She hesitates but keeps her weapon swinging, “What?”

“Sit back down again, you're mad at me and we need to figure this out.”

“Of course I'm mad at you,” she slips her yoyo back into its holster and crosses her arms across her chest, “You value Chloé’s opinion over mine.”

“That's not true and you know it.”

“The evidence says otherwise!”

“Look,” he clambers to his feet and places his hands on her shoulders, facing her dead on, “Chloé is…Chloé is like my Alya. She's my best friend and I talk to her about things and we hang out and gossip, just like you and Alya. Do you think that she talks about the same things with Nino as she does with you?”

Ladybug still won't look at him, “Probably not, but that's not the point.”

“That's exactly my point,” Chat counters, “Trust me, I'm always listening to you. I'm always trying my best to take what you tell me and learn from it and this is one of those cases where I really sucked at it. But I told Chloé and my therapist your idea and they've been bugging me about it ever since. You're the real brains here, not me. They just helped push me towards it.”

“Still...”

“I don't know how to explain it better than that,” he says with a shrug, drawing circles on the tops of her shoulders with his thumbs, “Everyone liked your idea and it took a village to get me to agree to it.”

She turns back to him with a sigh, the fire from her eyes completely snuffed by an emotion he can't quite place, “I'll take the photos tomorrow, if you're up to it.”

“Thank you,” he smiles in relief and pulls her into a hug, “I know I can always count on you.”

“Yeah yeah,” she pats his back lightly before letting her hands drop to her sides, “I'm sure Chloé will be thrilled.”

“She will be,” Chat agrees, still hugging her tightly, “And what about you? Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” her response is disappointingly non-committal, “I'm more worried about the trial. The opening statements start next Friday.”

“I'm not sure if I'm going or not,” Chat lets her go and steps back with a sigh, staring off into the distance, “It’ll be the first time I've seen my father since May.”

“I don't blame you for not wanting to go,” she says, following his gaze out into the cityscape of lights, “Did you get my text this morning?”

“I did,” he frowns, “But I don't know why Chat Noir has to testify. It's not like I was there when this all went down in the first place.”

“I think you're being asked to go as a character witness more than anything,” she explains quietly, “The prosecution just wants to drive the point to the jury that Gabriel terrorised the city for years and we fought to defend it daily.”

“I know…” Chat stares at _Le Grand Palais_ in the distance, its brightly lit ceiling of glass a reminder of that fateful night that changed everything, “That doesn't change the fact that I want to put off seeing him for as long as possible.”

“It sucks but it is what it is,” Ladybug doesn't sound quite as sympathetic as she usually does but Chat's fairly sure she's still sour about their previous conversation, “It’'ll be over soon.”

“What are you going to do about school?” he asks, turning towards her, “The trial runs into your first week of classes.”

“I don't know yet,” she keeps her eyes trained on the horizon, “I'll be testifying on the Thursday so I'll have to skip my lectures that day. I'm sure that won't make a very good first impression.”

Chat grimaces, “Wouldn't it be nice if we could just tell everyone we were superheroes?”

“Master Fu would kill us,” she shakes her head, “Speaking of which, did Chloé figure it out that I was Ladybug on her own or did you tell her?”

Chat gulps, “She figured it out, but not before she threatened to kill me for cheating on you.”

Ladybug snorts through her nose, “At least that explains why she's being civil with me.”

“She's a huge fan of your ass apparently.”

Ladybug steps back and twists her face in revulsion, “I _did not_ need to know that.”

“She wouldn't stop talking about it,” Chat continues conversationally, smothering a smirk as Ladybug continues to shudder, “Called it legendary. She even said it was better than mine.”

“That's disgusting,” Ladybug sticks her tongue out and pretends to gag, “God, sometimes I try and forget the whole world has seen us naked, I really do.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better…” he trails off, “Actually I got nothing.”

She snickers, “As long as no one else figures out our identities, then I can live with it.”

Chat taps his chin and smirks, “I'm still thinking about commissioning an artist to draw me in the nude.”

Rolling her eyes, Ladybug doesn't deign him with an answer, “See you tomorrow Chat.”

_“À plus!”_

~

Nadja Chamack  
@nadjachamackTVi   
Gabriel Agreste set to stand trial for domestic terrorism and first degree murder. Click here for live updates from outside the courthouse. 10:12 AM - 31 août 2018  783  2451 

~

Never let it be said that curiosity didn't kill the cat.

That's what he's thinking anyway now that he’s slipped inside the courtroom just as the doors were closing. He's tucked himself into the very back corner and is suitably dressed in clothes that he hopes people won't recognise him in: his ubiquitous black rimmed glasses, his Marinette made black hoodie, his favourite designer black jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He's got his hair in a bun so it will stay tucked up beneath his hat and Plagg has made himself quite at home beneath the fabric, forming a little nest in his curls.

To add to his disguise, he’d wanted to temporarily dye his hair but Marinette had quickly put an end to that.

He keeps his head down, his eyes glancing back and forth across the courtroom. The jury sits in a box to the left and they look about as nervous as he feels, their faces hardly eager for the trial to begin. Adrien spots the back of his father's head at the fore and forcefully pushes his nausea back down towards his stomach, focusing instead on the other side of the room.

To his right, a group of lawyers stand chatting, looking equally ill at ease. He spots Mme. Fiable and M. Ledroit, but there are two others he doesn't recognise. He assumes one of them must represent the justice system and waits to see what happens, nervous beyond belief.

A few more minutes pass and Adrien busies himself with his mobile, scrolling through his various social media pages. Chloé is somewhere halfway up on the other side with her father, her courtroom selfies taking up his Instagram feed and his Snapchat stories. He’s about to comment when a hush grows over the crowd and Adrien pockets his phone quickly, slumping in the benches just low enough so no one can see him above the crowd.

“May it please the Court, and you, Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury. Our case is simple: Gabriel Agreste, formerly known as _Le Papillon_ , is the man behind the mask and is single handedly responsible for terrorising the city of Paris for the past four years. There is no mystery, no case of secret identity here. Gabriel Agreste is being charged with domestic terrorism, planning to perform an act of violence and, of course, one count of first degree murder. These changes include the intention of causing serious bodily harm and death by the use of reckless and, quite frankly, unnecessary violence. He’s endangered millions of lives and caused substantial property damage, both public and private on a daily basis. Using an item of magical means, Gabriel Agreste possessed dangerous property intending that it be used to execute acts of terror. He’s knowingly carried out years worth of attacks on his own country and has openly admitted that he does not deny this. So why are we here? Why does the defendant plea not guilty when he’s facing such monstrous charges?”

The lawyer heading the prosecution looks out towards the audience for a brief moment before addressing the jury once again, “Your guess is as good as mine, Ladies and Gentlemen, which is why we must take the guessing out of the scenario entirely. Gabriel Agreste is absolutely, unequivocally guilty. Over the course of this trial we will see many damning pieces of evidence, including his own admission that was recorded here in this very room. So why are we wasting the money of the taxpayers of Paris, of the very people Gabriel Agreste terrorised day in and day out? Suspicion haunts the guilty mind…” the lawyer trails off and the implications, the knowledge of the real reasons his father could be putting them through all this ignites like fire in Adrien’s thoughts. Why is Gabriel wasting his time like this? Was it for publicity? Money? Revenge?

“Today, the city of Paris stands on the edge of a knife. There isn’t a single resident who hasn’t been personally affected by the hundreds upon thousands of akuma attacks that took place in our streets and in our homes. Gabriel Agreste, despite his intentions, is responsible for it all,” the lawyer lets his words register for a moment, “Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, the witnesses of the public will take the stand over the next few days to tell you exactly how their lives have been affected in abject detail. They will be honest and tell you exactly why it is important for them that Gabriel Agreste face the full extent of his actions in the form of lifelong consequences. Based on this evidence, I shall ask and expect you to return a verdict of guilty.”

The judge nods once as the prosecution lawyer walks back to his corner and gestures with his hand for the defence to proceed. M. Ledroit stands from where he’s been seated beside Gabriel and takes a few steps forwards, his confidence superseding his lack of grace. Round and wrinkled, M. Ledroit adjusts his reading glasses over his hooked nose and winks at the audience once before turning to address the jury.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I’m Jacques. I’m not that presumptuous that you know who I am but you see, these next few weeks are not about me, they’re about you. My job is very simple. It’s to give you the confidence of what’s within you to make the right choice. No matter how intimidated…” M. Ledroit trails off for a moment and taps the side of his nose, “Tell me something about yourself. I can see it in each and every one of you, something different, something that makes you stand apart from the others. I like that. See, finding that difference is something that I’ve been doing all my life and I’m sure there’s one or two of you who knows you can do better. Find those differences. Question everything.”

“The man sitting in front of us is a familiar face as any. In fact, anyone living in Paris will have seen his work at some point, his fashion house unparallelled in a time of the postmodern, art infused design that imbues the very soul of Paris. All of this work and effort has gone to waste however, in light of his, well, we all know the name. _Le Papillon_ is to Paris as Gabriel is to fashion. But his ultimate goal was not terrorism, as easy as it is to say. Like you, Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, there’s more to the accused than meets the eye.”

“The loss of a loved one is devastation. It can drive even the most sane of men to do questionable things to protect the people they love. This is M. Agreste’s plight. This is his story,” M. Ledroit straightens his shoulders and stands, his eyes grazing each member of the jury, “I’m looking forward to spending this time with you, I really am. At the end of the week, I’ll know each and every one of you intimately. I’ll be able to tell if you’re willing to choose something different. I’ll be able to tell you whether you want to acknowledge that perhaps you’re not so different from my client after all. And that is why, Ladies and Gentlemen, I will expect that you will return with a verdict of not guilty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M. Ledroit...what a stand up guy. I do love writing a bad guy, and he gets infinitely worse, rest assured. I had _fun_ with his dialogue, that's for sure.
> 
> Has another ML fic covered a trial before? I'm curious to know...
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	19. Week 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sinners! Sorry for being a week late on this update, I was abroad in a much needed vacation. I didn't do a single thing except lie down and eat the entire time...and I may or may not have drank my weight in tequila. Oops!
> 
> I hope you guys still remember Masquerade! This chapter deals with the events of those final few chapters quite heavily.
> 
> May you forever remember this chapter as the longest, the wildest, and as the one where Marinette gets completely and utterly _railed_.
> 
> (If this reads as off its rocker as I think it does, it's because I was drunk when I edited it. You've been warned.)

_[Week 15]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Professional]_   
_[Posture: Tense]_   
_[Attitude: Cooperative]_   
_[Mood: Extremely Anxious]_

 

Nadja Chamack  
@nadjachamackTVi   
BREAKING: Chat Noir to deliver blistering testimony in the case against Gabriel Agreste! The first witnesses take the stand today. Click here for live updates from outside the courthouse. #PapillonTrial 09:34 AM - 03 septembre 2018  912  1357 

~

“Chat Noir, what is it that you do?

Sitting inside the witness’s stand, Chat laces his fingers together and turns towards M. Ledroit, “I’m a superhero, which is a fancy way of saying that I’m just an unpaid public servant.”

A low murmur of snickers rolls though the gallery, “Of course you are. Now tell me, what was the primary purpose of your unpaid work, as you so aptly put it, before May 29th?”

“I defended the city from akuma attacks,” Chat explains, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat, “I assisted Ladybug in defeating the akumatised victims and I helped capture the akumas once we were able to break the cursed objects.”

“I see,” M. Ledroit nods his head, “Now, Chat Noir, could you describe the events of the night of May 11th?”

Chat Noir rolls his shoulders in preparation, “Le Papillon unleashed a bunch akumatised victims onto Paris. There were at least four that I know of, and there was a banquet being held for all of the first responders when the attack started. Ladybug and I managed to tackle one or two of them, I think. Maudite was the hardest one to nab because she led us to the _Le Grand Palais_ where the banquet was being held and by the time we got there, she had akumatised all of them. We defeated her and then we grabbed some food to eat at the banquet because we were starving and we still had more akumas wreaking havoc around the city...and that’s all I remember.”

“That’s all you remember?”

“I was poisoned,” Chat responds flatly, “Ladybug will have to tell you the rest.”

The buzz in the room grows loud enough that Judge Abouet has to call for order before M. Ledroit can continue, “I see. And you remember nothing of what happened that night?”

“No. I was unconscious.”

“And at any point did you go to a hospital?”

“Last time I checked, unconscious people usually can’t check themselves into hospitals.”

Ladybug gives him a warning look from the gallery and Chat blinks innocently, turning back to the bristling lawyer before him, “Of course Chat Noir, let me rephrase. Did anyone take you to the hospital?”

“No. No one took me to the hospital,” Chat replies, keeping his focus on the maze of wrinkles between M. Ledroit’s eyebrows in an attempt to keep his cool. Lying wasn’t exactly something he was supposed to do in a courtroom but as Chat Noir he had no choice, “Ladybug left me at _Le Grand Palais_. When I woke up, I was still there.”

“She just left you? What an odd thing to do to one’s poisoned partner.”

“Well I’m still here,” Chat says simply, shrugging his shoulders, “So clearly she made the right call.”

M. Ledroit twitches ever so slightly, his lips curling into an nigh imperceptible frown, “Can you tell us what happened next?”

“I threw up,” Chat replies, “Or at least I think I did. I don’t know, to be honest. My memories are pretty hazy.”

“When did you start to feel like yourself again?”

“The next day once I went back home.”

“And how did you get there?”

“I walked.”

“From where? Surely you weren’t in _Le Grand Palais_ all that time?”

“Ladybug brought me to my mentor’s house,” Chat explains through his teeth, hoping that no one could see through his bluff, “He took care of me until I could function on my own again.”

“And your family didn’t notice you were gone?”

Chat shrugs, “I went home the night after the attack. I told them that I slept over at a friend’s house.”

“And they believed you?”

“They did.”

“I see,” M. Ledroit nods once, “So let me clarify. At any point that evening, did you see Le Papillon?”

“No.”

“So you cannot say with any certainty that he murdered convicted contract killer Loïc Lhérault?”

“No.”

“Thank you Chat Noir. No more questions, your Honour.”

Judge Abouet glances over at M. Schapiro, the head prosecution lawyer on the case who had delivered the opening statement the Friday before, “M. Schapiro, you may begin.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” the lawyer responds, brushing the side of his beard with his thumb before walking towards the stand, “Chat Noir, first I want to apologise for what happened to you. Surely it’s been difficult for you to relive these memories.”

“It has,” Chat agrees, rolling his shoulders to try and relieve the tension building in his spine, “But I’ll be fine sooner or later. I’m the kind of cat that tends to _furrgive_ and forget.”

A smattering of snickers rises up from the gallery, “A comedian even on the stand. Tell me Chat Noir, do you know the identity of the person who poisoned you?”

“Loïc Lhérault. He admitted it to Ladybug.”

“A cruel thing to do,” M. Schapiro shakes his head in disdain, “Do you know why he would do such a thing?”

“He wanted my ring,” Chat wriggles the fingers of his right hand for the jury to see, “He’d explained to Ladybug that he was going to trade it so he could get his akuma powers back from Le Papillon.”

“And did he successfully take your ring that night?”

“Since we knew ahead of time what he was planning to do, we found a replica ring to trick him with.”

“You knew what he was planning ahead of time? Please explain to the jury what you mean.”

Chat leans forward and rests his elbows on the stand, “Loïc tracked down Ladybug a few days before and told her his plan. He said that in exchange for my ring, he would tell her Le Papillon’s identity and if she didn’t cooperate, he would go after her family.”

“M. Lhérault knew of Ladybug’s civilian identity?”

“He figured it out but I never found out how.”

“That is certainly cause for concern,” M. Schapiro scratches his beard for a moment before continuing, “So once you fell unconscious, did Ladybug take your real ring or the false one?”

“The false one. She gave it to Loïc and followed him to the Eiffel Tower.”

“And where did you get a replica of your ring that was close enough to fool M. Lhérault?”

Chat swallows uncomfortably and locks eyes with Ladybug for a brief moment, “The only thing that I can tell you is that we had an in at Gabriel. He was designing replica rings at the time and our source borrowed one of the prototypes.”

“Gabriel, as in the fashion company owned by the man currently sitting in the dock?”

“Yes.”

“Fascinating,” M. Schapiro steps closer to the stand and angles his body towards the jury, “Chat Noir, can you tell me about your personal interactions with Le Papillon?”

“We didn’t interact very often face to face but when we did, he was ruthless,” Chat explains, leaning back in the chair, “He beat the snot out of us more than once...the guy can pack a punch.”

“And how often did you engage in physical altercations?”

“Only a handful of occasions, I can’t give you an exact number, but I can tell you how much it hurt. It didn’t matter if we were just kids at the time and he was so much older. He never held back.”

“Did he ever show remorse?”

“Never. Just anger. He was always angry, even when Ladybug would try and reason with him. He didn’t want to listen to us.”

“And would you say that he intended to kill you during these fights?”

Chat takes an unsteady breath, “It felt like it.”

M. Schapiro seems to soak up the low murmur from the gallery, “I have one final question, your Honour. Chat Noir, can you swear without a shadow of a doubt that the man who repeatedly attacked you with the intention to kill is the man sitting in the dock at this moment?”

Steeling himself, Chat finally glances over at his father and the raw revulsion he feels crawl from the base of his spine to the tips of his ears is all he needs to confirm it.

“Absolutely.”

~

Several hours later, Adrien groans and falls face first onto his hotel bed, “That _sucked_.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought you did really well,” Marinette replies, running her fingers through his hair as she sits down on the mattress beside him, “The jury looked pretty convinced.”

Snuffling into his bedsheets, Adrien releases another pent up wail.

“What?”

Adrien turns his head and glowers at her bent knees, “I hate him.”

“Who? Your father?”

“And his lawyer,” Adrien responds, flopping bonelessly onto his back, “He’s _evil.”_

“I know,” Marinette’s lip turns up in revulsion, “It’s like he’s trying to win us over by condescending us to death.”

“A psychological bully,” Adrien murmurs and it sounds just like something Docteur Renée would say, “I’ve been trying to stay positive about all this but if he got hit by a bus tomorrow, I wouldn’t be sad about it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little wishful thinking,” Marinette chuckles, laying down beside him, “Want to get your frustrations out?”

“How?” Adrien responds, turning to face her, “I don’t really feel like playing Mecha Strike right now.”

“What about the Sims? We could make little M. Ledroits and build them a little house and take away all the doors.”

Adrien begins to laugh in earnest, “As long as we put a few into the pool and delete the ladders.”

“Oh my god,” Marinette rolls over onto her side and giggles into his chest, “Remember when you did that by accident and you literally made an entire hour’s worth of Snaps about it?”

“I have never felt so guilty in my entire life,” he replies, pressing his palm to his chest, “I actually had nightmares about it for a week.”

“Only you would feel guilty about accidentally killing a Sim,” she shakes her head and props herself up on her elbows with a grin, “So? What do you say? Sims, and then we can grab something to eat for dinner?”

Adrien grins, “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Only each and every day.”

~

 

 

Nadja Chamack  
@nadjachamackTVi   
Stay up to date on the fourth day of testimonies at Gabriel Agreste’s hearing! On the stand this morning: Former employees Catherine Dauney & Christien Majordom, former friend and confidante Audrey Bourgeois, and the superheroine herself, Ladybug! Click here for live updates from outside the courthouse. #PapillonTrial 09:34 AM - 06 septembre 2018  877  3422 

~

“Ladybug, how exactly did the evening of May 11th begin?”

Adrien watches from the gallery with bated breath, wedged in between Chloé and Mayor Bourgeois. The latter man’s large body blocks his father’s form from view but he can still feel him, the pervasive nature of his personality hanging over the chamber like a heavy fog.

“Chat and I were fighting akuma. We defeated the worst one who called herself Maudite and then we stopped to refuel. That’s when Chat was poisoned.”

M. Schapiro gestures for her to continue, “I rolled Chat onto his side and continued on with the plan. I took the replica ring and found Loïc in the parking lot. I gave him the ring and followed him to the Eiffel Tower where I watched him and Le Papillon fight from where I was hiding.”

“And why exactly were they fighting?”

“Loïc asked for his akuma powers back in exchange for the ring. Le Papillon said no.”

“I see,” M. Schapiro walks over to the prosecutor’s desk and picks up a remote, “Here is an image of Loïc from the coroner’s report. Can you confirm that the man you are describing is him?”

Ladybug looks up at the projected image on the screen and quickly turns away, her facing blanching at the sight, “It is. That’s him.”

Keeping his eyes glued to the stand, Adrien forcefully keeps his curiosity at bay as M. Shapiro turns off the projection and continues, “Can you describe how M. Lhérault came to be this way?”

“I can,” Ladybug clears her throat and tries to refocus, “They were threatening each other and then they started to fight. Loïc had him pinned when Le Papillon…he…”

“When he stabbed him.”

Ladybug swallows uncomfortably and nods, “Yes...and then when Le Papillon left, I ran over and tried to save him but he...I…”

Ladybug looks lost for a moment, her lips twisted in pain, “...there was nothing I could do.”

“I’m sorry,” M. Schapiro responds quietly, keeping his focus on her, “At any point, did he say anything to you before he passed?”

“He didn’t say anything, but he pointed to an advertisement on the wall,” Ladybug crosses her arms uncomfortably, bringing her shoulders up near her ears, “It was a Gabriel poster. At the time, I didn’t understand what it meant, but now…”

“Do you believe he was trying to tell you that Le Papillon was Gabriel Agreste?”

“I do,” Ladybug takes a shaky breath, “He told me before that Le Papillon was extremely rich so it only made sense.”

“I think the jury would agree as well,” M. Shapiro turns to them quickly before addressing her again, “Tell me about what happened next.”

“I called 112 and I was questioned by the police. I told them everything I saw and then I told them that Le Papillon was injured in the fight. A few weeks later, the police matched Gabriel Agreste’s DNA with the blood they found at the Eiffel Tower,” Ladybug shivers, “When they arrested him, they asked me to come in and help and eventually, we found his secret lair in his mansion and some of the akuma he used were still flying around. That’s when the police and I knew for sure that he was Le Papillon.”

“So not only did you witness a cold blooded murder, but you also witnessed first hand the secret lair of Le Papillon in Gabriel Agreste’s very own mansion, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe without a shadow of a doubt that Gabriel Agreste is the owner of this secret lair?”

“He had to be, he built the mansion from the ground up. The police confirmed that with the contractors.”

“Of course. I have no more questions, Your Honour.”

Judge Abouet waves M. Ledroit to the stand and the change in Ladybug’s demeanor is immediately obvious, her lips hardening into a thin line, “Ladybug, heroine of Paris. It is truly an honour to meet you in the flesh.”

Ladybug doesn’t deign him with a response and M. Ledroit continues undeterred, “I don’t have many questions for you I’m afraid. It appears that your mind is made up, which is certainly not surprising for someone as dedicated to justice as yourself. Once you commit to a decision, I am sure there is no force on this earth that could stop you from making the judgement that you think is right.”

Ladybug turns towards the prosecution desk with a withering glance, “I thought I was up here to answer questions.”

“You are,” M. Schapiro replies, rising from his chair, “Your Honour?”

“M. Ledroit, please begin questioning the witness.”

“With pleasure,” M. Ledroit quickly glances towards the jury and taps the side of his nose, a gesture Adrien was quickly associating with his way of being cheeky, “Ladybug, do you know Gabriel Agreste personally?”

“I have met him before,” Ladybug responds, steadying herself, “I’ve saved him from akuma attacks on more than one occasion.”

“And what was your perception of the man?”

“I thought he was professional. Whenever I spoke with him, he was always calm and collected.”

“You never once suspected that Gabriel Agreste was Le Papillon.”

“I did actually,” Ladybug confirms and Adrien remembers the day as if it were yesterday, “I was investigating him but he must of sensed that I was getting close because that was the day he akumatised himself.”

“He akumatised himself?”

“He called himself _Le Collectionneur_. He was the villain that turned objects into sketches in his notepad.”

“Ah yes,” M. Ledroit replies as if suddenly reminded, “And after that?”

“I didn’t think that Le Papillon could akumatise himself so I took him off my list.”

“And who else was on that list?”

“There were a lot of people on it, I don’t remember.”

“That’s a shame indeed,” M. Ledroit adjusts his glasses and stares at her from above the thin steel frames, “And did you know him as your civilian self?”

“You know I can’t answer that,” she responds through gritted teeth, “And even if I had, my opinion wouldn’t have changed. He was professional, but he also had a past.”

“And what past are you referring to?”

Ladybug bristles, her demeanour growing more and more heated, “Everyone who lives in Europe knows about the disappearance of Émilie Agreste. It was in the tabloids for months.”

“So what you’re saying is that you cannot be impartial when it comes to your opinion of M. Agreste?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Ladybug snarks back, “But now that I know that Gabriel Agreste is Le Papillon, I think it’s pretty obvious what happened to his wife.”

The gallery _erupts_.

**“ORDER!”** Judge Abouet slams his gavel down onto his bench but the damage has already been done as the entirety of the courtroom reacts to the veiled accusations that Gabriel, his _father_ , could have been the reason why his mother disappeared. Mayor Bourgeois’ shouts of outrage towards Gabriel join the chorus of cries and gasps all around him and all Adrien can do is sit and stare at Ladybug, his jaw coming unhinged.

“ _Nique ta race bâtard!!!_ ” Chloé screeches from her seat beside him, promptly leaping up onto her feet to join in with the chaos. It’s insane and surreal all at the same time as Ladybug visibly reels back from the commotion, her eyes as wide as his once she realises just exactly what she’s done.

**“ORDER! ORDER!”** Judge Abouet continues to shout and it still takes another minute or two for the voices to fall back down to a furious simmer, the gallery and the jury both shaken by the revelations, “Ladybug, I would please remind you not to make accusations while on the stand.”

Ladybug nods and turns her attention back to Adrien for a moment, her stare both apologetic and harrowing, “Sorry.”

Adrien doesn't know what to say.

“ _Well_ ,” M. Ledroit breathes, puffing out his chest in some sort of delusional mix of shock and awe, “ _That_ was quite the declaration. Care to add anything else that could land you in a defamation lawsuit Ladybug?”

Ladybug’s ghostly pale expression turns dark in an instant, “You asked for my opinion. I gave it.”

“Such a fine line to toe,” M. Ledroit says, his voice lilting dangerously, “You’ll do best to remember that. No more questions, your Honour.”

~

Throwing her purse across the room, Marinette shrieks and flails at nothing, her face stained red in anger, “I _HATE_ THAT MAN!”

Murmuring his agreement, all Adrien can do is stand back and watch as she stalks across the floor of her bedroom, her eyes lit up with a livid hate he hasn’t seen from her in ages. It’s kind of scary in a way that jolts pleasantly up and down his spine and Adrien curses his libido for finding her so attractive like this, raging from the throes of a testimony gone awry.

“He made me look like an idiot!” Marinette kicks the pair of jeans she’d left beside her desk chair like a ball, watching with bared teeth as they hit the legs of her chaise with a resounding thump, “He made me look ridiculous! Like I was crazy! And I am _not_ crazy! I was just answering his stupid questions! He set me up! He set me up to look like an idiot!”

Adrien just keeps nodding, knowing full well that saying anything now would be all but pointless. Marinette, for all her kindness and wishful thinking, had been led by his father’s shitty lawyer like a dog to that conclusion; after her testimony, the judge had called a short recess and he’d ended up speaking with his lawyer for a short time, still in a state of shock and awe. Mme. Fiable more or less confirmed that M. Ledroit was probably just looking for a way to discredit the only witness to Gabriel’s crime, thus dropping a seed of doubt into the jury’s minds. How could someone so biased be trusted to give a completely truthful testimony on the night of Loïc Lhérault’s stabbing? How could someone so biased accuse him of causing his wife's disappearance and get away with it?

Truthfully, how could Ladybug be trusted at all?

Peering at the live feed scrolling across Marinette's desktop, Adrien notices that the press is taking this all rather well. Ladybug is the beating heart and soul of Paris and it would take more than one snivelling lawyer to turn the citizens against her; Adrien is thankful for that more than anything, even if she had opened a can of worms so incredibly controversial that not even he had had the balls to say it out loud himself...

After countless sleepless nights staring up at the plaster ceiling of his hotel room, it had certainly occurred to him more than once in the weeks following his father’s arrest that Gabriel could have been involved with his mother’s disappearance too. He’d killed a guy and terrorised Paris for years...surely he could have done something to her too, right? Was it so bad that it had actually crossed his mind more than once? He’d been mulling over it silently for a while now and although it never came up with Marinette, he did mention it once to Docteur Renée. She’d been wary of letting him fall down that rabbit hole for obvious reasons and changed the subject whenever he so much as hinted about a connection between the two of them, but now he had a legitimate excuse to flesh out his own suspicions.

It had also occurred to him that the answers to his questions might just lie with his father’s former kwami just an arrondissement away.

“Can you even believe this?!” Marinette cries and Adrien jerks back into awareness, watching a stuffed Chat Noir plushie fly towards the window to his left. He reaches out and catches it before it can knock the picture frames off the walls and he throws it back at her, aiming it squarely at her chest. She catches it and lobs it back at him, “I am so pissed off!”

“I can tell,” he responds, tossing the stuffed Chat Noir at her again, “The Sims helped me, you know, it might help you too.”

“No,” she says vehemently, hugging tiny Chat Noir to her chest and dropping onto the cushions of her chaise with a harrumph, “I need something better. Something where I can just...let go.”

“Patrol?” he suggests, “Maybe there’s some bad guys out there to beat up?”

“I don’t want to be Ladybug right now,” she shakes her head, “M. Ledroit made me look so stupid today. I’m probably the laughing stock of Paris.”

“Not exactly,” Adrien pulls out his phone and brings up his Twitter feed, “The press is on your side for the most part. M. Schapino said that the police are going to be reopening my mother’s case to see if your claims have any merit.”

“Really?” Marinette blinks in surprise before her entire expressions crumbles, “Oh god, Adrien. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he responds automatically, his shock from before having turned him almost numb, “I was kind of thinking along the same lines myself.”

Marinette is quiet for several beats, her face flitting through a range of emotions before settling on understanding, “Oh.”

“Yeah…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck instinctively, “I don’t really know to be honest. I just...nothing about him surprises me anymore.”

“Oh,” Marinette says again, her lips parting as if to say something else but the words die in her throat. She stares at him for a few more moments before something in her eyes changes and the expression is familiar, like a proverbial light bulb going off above her head, “Okay, I think I figured it out.”

Adrien’s brows rise passed his overgrown bangs, “You figured what out?”

“What will make us feel better,” Marinette sets the stuffed Chat Noir down beside her and rises to her feet.

“Yeah?” Adries asks as she begins walking towards him, her gate slow and deliberate, “What’s that?”

“Well, keep in mind that you’re one hundred percent allowed to say no because this day has been an absolute roller coaster and if you’re not in the mood, I get it—”

“Just tell me Marinette.”

“Us, together,” she responds plain and simply, igniting the feeling from before in his spine, “We need to do something together. Massage, bath, sex. You choose.”

A little numbly, Adrien wraps his arms around her waist as she closes the distance between them, “I get to choose?”

“Well yeah,” she says as if it were obvious, drawing her fingers across his exposed collarbones, “I just made your life even more insane today because I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut. I owe it to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Adrien murmurs and Marinette locks eyes with him, her expression a little less open than it was a moment before.

“Yes I do and we both know it,” she replies quietly, pressing closer, “But seriously, between the stress of my first week at the design academy and the trial and the fact that I haven’t spent any time with you since we made an entire graveyard of little Ledroit Sims, I just want to...it’s been a while since we’ve been able to just...let go, you know?”

Adrien nods, the numbness from before slowly ebbing away at her touch, “Yeah.”

“But if you don’t want to, I get it,” she backtracks, grasping onto his biceps, “If you want to just go back to your hotel room and chill out, that’s fine too—”

“—Marinette—”

“—because I don’t want to stress you out just because _I’m_ stressed out—”

_“Marinette,”_ Adrien raises his voice sharply, the heat behind his voice stalling her in her tracks, “It’s fine. I want to spend time with you too.”

Deflating a little, she sinks into his embrace, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head a little, watching as she buries her face in his chest and finally relaxes. She’s always been a storm in a teacup and Adrien only hopes he can get used to it one day, “So what are we going to do then?”

Marinette glances upwards, her brows drawing together, “You’re supposed to choose.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“But you’re—ugh!” Marinette shakes him a little, her frustration evident, “Fine. I’m just...I just want you to…”

Adrien watches for a moment as she stews over what she’s trying to say, “...just tell me Marinette.”

Marinette takes a deep breath, her resolve building behind her eyes, “Remember when you and I had sex in the shower that one time?”

_Oh…_

“And you kind of just...went crazy?”

…

“And then we used the tie?”

…

Marinette’s lips are moving. They’re saying something surely, but all Adrien can hear is the feedback sound of every millilitre of blood rushing from his head to his groin.

“I just...I kind of want you to do that again.”

Adrien swallows, “Say it.”

“I just did,” Marinette pouts but Adrien doesn’t buy her act for a second, his heart pounding.

“ _Say it._ ”

“Fine,” she grumbles, letting her fingers walk back up his chest, “I want you to boss me around again.”

“Words I thought I’d never hear you say,” Adrien mutters, unwilling to give up that easy, “Why?”

“Why!? I just told you I wanted you to boss me around and now you’re asking me why?!”

“Yes,” Adrien responds firmly, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, “Usually when you’re angry and frustrated, you want to control _me_.”

“Not always,” Marinette squirms in his grasp, “Sometimes it’s nice to…”

She trails off and Adrien takes this as his cue, sliding his hand up from her waist to the nape of her neck, “To what?”

“...I trust you,” she says finally, ducking her head, “As Ladybug and as Marinette. See, I’m always the one that everyone looks up to. I purify the city, I help people, I do this, I do that. But sometimes...sometimes I just want to…”

She takes a deep breath, “Sometimes I just want to hand over the responsibility to someone else, and that someone else is you.”

A smile stretches across his lips and that instinct wells up inside of him, the one that only rears its head when the heat hormones are coursing through his veins. It’s a sensation he’s always associated as a side effect of the Cat Miraculous, the feeling dangerous, wicked, uncontrollable; it calls for him to mark her skin and make sure the entire universe knows she belongs to him and him alone. He looks down at her necklace, the one he gave her, and lets his walls down for a moment if only to indulge; what floods his senses is purely animalistic, a hunger so profound that his mouth practically waters at the prospect.

“Is that so?” he tips his head to the side, his grin only growing as Marinette’s eyes go wide with whatever she’s seeing. He likes that look on her, the one that briefly wonders what she’s gotten herself into; she knows full well what he’s capable of, what he’s been suppressing all these years and to have her ask for it, to have her stutter around her words for it…

He wants to make her beg.

Marinette nods once, a little shaky, “My parents are still in the bakery.”

“Which means?”

“Which means I can be loud,” Marinette responds with a shudder, “I know you like that.”

“I do,” Adrien confirms, the hand at the back of her neck tightening ever so slightly, a gentle reminder, “What else do I like?”

“I…” she shudders again, “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” he insists, his other hand coming down to circle her wrist, “You know I like it when I pin you to the wall.”

Spinning her around, Adrien does just that.

“ _Ah!”_ she cries out as he takes her wrists and slides them up until they’re above her head, pressing their lips together. He can feel the heat of her body through their clothes and for all of the emotion and the shock and the stress of the last few days, the physicality of it all burns in a cathartic sort of way. Like a shower after a long day, he loses himself in the warmth of her skin, the fire in his lungs, the sweat that’s beginning to bead at the base of his spine as his teeth trail down from her cheek to her jaw, gently nibbling wherever he sees fit.

Gasping, she tries to move her hands but he’s just not having it, his grip tightening on her wrists as she squirms against him. It’s liberating to have control again, even if it’s only temporary; his Lady would always be the one in charge, but whenever she gives him permission to lead the way within the safety of her arms, he feels like he can lose his own tenuous grasp on himself for a little while and bask in the freedom to respond to whatever she evokes in him, discipline be damned.

It all makes sense now, the indomitable fire she can light within him the second she so much as hints that she wants him to lead. As Adrien, he’s been restrained all his life and yet when he’s with her, he can let his guard down in a way that he can only do as Chat Noir, all sharp teeth and bad humour, and tear off his restraints for a little while.

No more worries.

No more self-control.

Only instinct, wild and unbridled, could drive him now.

Sliding a hand up beneath her skirt, he skims his fingertips across her bare skin with all of the intent to tease. He latches onto the juncture of her neck and ignores her gasp of warning as he sucks a mark into her skin, distracting her instead with the way his fingers dance across the waistband of her panties, his thumb rubbing her through the fabric. Three or four strokes is all it takes before he can feel her grow wetter and it isn’t enough, it’s never enough when her pleasure is so close, his for the taking.

Adrien releases his grasp on her hands and nearly loses his balance when she keeps her arms pinned above her head right where he wants them and _fuck,_ he can hardly handle himself as he tugs her skirt and panties off all in one go, leaving her bare from the waist down. She’s perfect and pale and gorgeous in every way and he lets his body do what it likes, which is ignore all sense of decency and go down on her like he hasn’t eaten in days.

Marinette shouts at the sudden contact, the friction delicious as he hikes one thigh over his shoulder and devours her just the way she likes, all tongue and suction and a little bit of teeth. His neck already aches but he doesn’t care, too busy pushing and prodding with his tongue, warming her up as fast as he possibly can. She doesn’t orgasm quite as quickly now as she did during their heat but he still knows her triggers, her sensitive spots and her body language; her gasps and groans all mean something a little different and he lets his ears guide him, determined to bring her the same pleasure that she gives to him every time she lets him take the wheel.

He lets his free hand wander up her body and climb beneath her shirt, teasing the skin just below her bra line. She’s moaning a little louder now and he lets his purr kick in, a conscious choice when he’s not entirely lost in the throes of passions, and reaches up to squeeze her breast firmly. He hears her head thunk against the wall and he adjusts his grasp on her with his other hand, a little warning reminder as he continues to anchor her to the wall. He likes her there, confined purely because she wants to be, and doubles down on her clit with all the enthusiasm he can muster, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger through her lace bralette.

He leans back for a moment to stretch his neck and admires the mess of a woman before him, responding so eagerly to his touch. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are lidded, her lips parting with short gasps of air as his free hand slowly meanders back down her body, grazing the crease of her thigh.

“Come with me.”

Her eyes drift back open as he straightens and takes her hand in his, leading her up towards her platform bed. She walks up first and he enjoys the view, the moisture between her thighs glistening in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the windows, the subtle curve of her ass in his face leaving nothing to the imagination. Licking her essense from his lips, he toes off his shoes and takes the rungs three at a time, eager to see his prize waiting for him at the top.

She’s already on her back and he presses his palms to the insides of her knees, pushing them apart and urging them upwards, exposing her entirely to him. Her blush spreads at the intimacy of it all and he revels in it, the power he has over her in this moment intoxicating. A wicked thought strikes him and he makes quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt, rolling the body of the fabric up and over until he’s made a makeshift rectangular scarf of sorts with the sleeves. When he looks up from his handiwork, he can already see the understanding in her eyes and she lifts her arms above her head again with a nervous breath.

There’s nothing to tie them to save for the stuffed cat she uses as a headboard but Adrien doesn’t particularly care; he kneels beside her and tethers her hands together with just enough pressure to keep them secured in their quick and dirty bind, “You know, I always wanted you to do this to me with your yoyo.”

Marinette swallows and glances up at him as he settles back between her thighs, her lower lip swollen from the way she’s been biting it in anticipation, “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, bracing himself over top of her. He cups her face with his free hand and rests his thumb against her lip, dragging it across and dipping inside. She sucks on it eagerly and he struggles to keep his concentration as she laves it with her tongue, the sensation coursing through his blood in the best of ways, “Maybe when we’re not so _tied_ up, we can try it.”

Marinette bites down on his thumbnail and Adrien snatches his hand back, snickering despite the brief sting, “I thought we agreed to no puns during sex.”

“I would have never agreed to that and you know it,” Adrien lets his hands wander, his eyes never leaving hers. He hikes up her shirt until it bunches beneath her arms and brushes his fingertips against her bare skin, coaxing goosepimples in their wake, “Nothing like a pun to get you in the mood.”

“I am literally this close to kicking you out of my bed,” Marinette warns, though her resolution wavers as Adrien’s smile turns sinister, flicking open the front closure of her bralette. He dips his head as his fingers slide under her breasts and free them from the confines of the pink and purple lace, her body now almost completely bare, “S-so hurry up.”

“Hurry up and what?” Adrien peeks up at her from beneath his bangs and grins, content to leave her heaving chest alone for a moment, “This?”

He tweaks her exposed nipple and grins as she arches up from the mattress, _“Ah!”_

He’s on her in an instant, his teeth bearing down on the nipple he’d just teased. He presses down against her and she writhes in a mixture of pleasure and pain, his teeth and tongue taking turns torturing her senseless. He eases back after a particularly loud mewl and releases her swollen bud just a millimeter too late for it to be comfortable, forcing a small yelp from her lips.

“Too much?”

Marinette opens her eyes, having clamped them shut during the assault, “I...I don’t know.”

Adrien shifts his weight to the empty space beside her in order to give her a bit of space, “I can back off if you want me to.”

“I…” Marinette closes her eyes again and takes a shaky breath, “Is it weird if I said that I really liked it?”

“Not at all,” Adrien blinks, thinking about all the times she’d dug her fingernails into his back, “I kind of like it too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Adrien climbs back over top of her and relishes in the way she relaxes beneath his weight, “Do you want me to do it again?”

Marinette nods and starts worrying her lower lip between her teeth, the sinews of her arms flexing as he takes her other nipple between his fingers again and twists it slowly, releasing it just as her body shudders from the sensation. He laves it with his tongue to lessen the torment and she gasps loudly, her thighs trying desperately to find purchase in order to lessen the building tension between them. She shifts her hips just enough to start grinding on his waistband and Adrien vaguely wonders what that stain is going to look like, the heat and moisture of her pleasure already seeping through the fabric of his jeans.

“Someone’s eager,” he mentions off-handedly, smirking as she throws him a disgruntled stare. He leans back and takes his time unbuckling his jeans, shimmying them down his thighs alongside his boxers. His cock springs free easily, already hard and leaking from the way she’s been moaning and squirming for more and his head is practically spinning as she spreads her thighs even farther, an unconscious choice on her part. Her eyes make the rounds from his eyes to his cock and back again and it makes him even hungrier, if that were even possible, “Do I even have to ask?”

Marinette swallows audibly, her head shaking back and forth as he kicks off his jeans completely, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she whispers, her voice hardly audible in his ears as his heart thunders in his chest. With a growl, he bends down and devours her nipples again, sucking on them forcefully as his free hand squeezes her mound hard enough to incite that pain versus pleasure sensation they both seem to love so much, his firm touch causing her to whimper out loud, “Adrien!”

He peers up and kisses her roughly, all teeth and tongue, “Yes _Princesse_?”

“Please,” she begs, her body responding overwhelmingly to his ministrations. He’s never been the insightful one of the two of them but everything lately is suddenly becoming a lot clearer to him, a lot more obvious. Marinette? She’s a control freak who needs exactly the opposite; she’d admitted as much to him not ten minutes earlier and he couldn't be happier because it meant he could be just the opposite too. No more Adrien the model shaped doormat, no more being forced into the cookie cutter shape that he didn’t quite fit. He could be whoever he wanted to be with Marinette at his side and he realises then that this is exactly what they both need desperately; a temporary emancipation of their identities, their wants and needs boiled down until there’s nothing between them but truth and desire.

Hoisting her legs up over his shoulders while still seated, Adrien wastes no time in burying his face between her thighs again. Swearing, Marinette does all she can to hold on and twists her head to the side, trapping her lower lip between her teeth to keep from coming right then and there. He can feel the way her muscles are wobbling with restraint and Adrien does his best to push her to the brink, his fingers digging into her hip bones so he can pull her as close as he possibly can in the odd position, her lower body propped up leaving only her shoulders and head on the mattress.

“Please,” she begs again, her hands twisting against her restraints above her head. She screams softly against her bicep and Adrien decides then and there to give her what she wants, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking consistently for all of the ten seconds it takes to watch her fall over the precipice. Her orgasm is one of the most intense he’s ever given her without the fire of their heat flowing through their veins and he takes immense pride in the way she turns to jelly in his grasp, sated and soaking wet against his chin.

She’s blushing and breathless and Adrien soaks her in for a moment, her heaving chest still bright red from their previous explorations together. A few fingertip sized bruises have already appeared along her breasts and hip bones and he reminds himself to kiss and each and every one of them a dozen times once he’s finished with her, which won’t be much longer unless Adrien can get himself under control. His cock is throbbing uncomfortably, desperate for release, and he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last once he’s inside of her, slick and drenched with the remnants of her release.

Without thinking too much more about it, he flips her over and yanks her up onto her knees easily, her body still boneless in his grasp. Pumping himself, he positions himself at her entrance and plows into her, shuddering as she sighs in ecstasy and sinks back onto him, taking him inside of her completely. She feels incredible around him, her tight, wet heat still fluttering slightly, her nerves still igniting like fireworks as the blaze of her lust rekindles. The sensation is too much already and he desperately needs something to distract himself with as she mewls and moans with every thrust, bobbing forwards and back to drive him as deeply as possible. She shifts her head to the side and Adrien soaks in her profile, all parted lips and unfocused gazes, her expression entirely awash in the euphoria of bliss. He can hardly keep it together when she starts chanting his name over and over again and he grips her tightly, bending down to revel in the salty taste of her skin.

She groans as the force of his thrusts increase, the rough grind of his cock inside of her and the harsh sound of his gasps in her ear pushing her to a point of babbling that Adrien has never seen. He loves the way she’s completely surrendered as he continues to pound her into the mattress at a punishing pace even he wasn’t sure he was capable of. He hardly feels tethered to his own body anymore as his pleasure reaches a crescendo so strong it practically blinds him and Adrien leans forwards one last time, his cock erupting inside of her, white hot and _fuck!_

There’s a pleasant buzz in his ears and an even more pleasant weight against his side as he finally manages to crack open his eyelids, his toes and fingertips still buzzing from what was probably the most powerful orgasm of his life. He swallows and tries to regain his breath but his entire body seems like it’s all but given up on being corporeal, “Mmmm…”

“I needed that,” Marinette finally murmurs in response, her lips brushing against his chest. He peers down and reminds himself that he has to kiss away her bruises once he can locate his limbs again, which could take longer than expected. He can see his legs but he can’t quite feel them yet, and he says at much to Marinette who snickers against his skin, “Me too.”

“But actually,” Adrien buries his nose in the crown of her hair and takes a breathy pull, grounding himself against the lull of sleep even though the sun has just barely disappeared behind the cityscape beyond her windows, “Like, where are they?”

“They’re right here silly,” she responds, dragging her fingernails through the baby blond hairs on his bare thighs and for this first time since trying to wrack his sex addled brain for words, Adrien remembers that those very skilled hands of hers had been tied above her head not that long ago. Frowning, he forces his pupils to try and focus, quickly analysing the skin around her wrists.

“How do you feel?” he asks before he can stop himself, the guilt and the emotion from the absolute raw experience they’d just gone through suddenly making his heart pump for an entirely different reason. Feeling him tense up beneath her, Marinette turns to meet his gaze with a lazy smile and swats him on the chest for good measure.

“I’m not going to be able to move anytime soon,” she admits, a little self consciously, “But I...I wouldn’t mind if we did it like that again.”

Adrien feels the tension from his body melt at her words, “Really?”

“Really,” she responds, relaxing against his chest once more, “But not right now because like...remember that Ariana Grande song you thought was about bicycling? Side To Side?”

Adrien raises an eyebrow, “...uh, yeah?”

“Well now I know that she was talking about,” Marinette grimaces, “Because I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk straight for a week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a good legal thriller. I'm not a lawyer and this story is entirely based off my own justice system...I don't have the patience to read up on the French system to be honest. Also, as a domme, I took great pleasure in writing this from the perspective of the person giving the pleasure rather that receiving it. I have a very hard time finding fiction (fan and original) that doesn't solely focus on the submissive's emotions and sensations. When I wrote this, I set out to give the doms/dommes of the world the recognition they deserve!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	20. Week 15 (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! I decided to post this as I'm a) behind in my posting schedule and b) a little disappointed by the response form late week's chapter. I kind of thought I'd get more hype from that smut but then I was like...maybe I scared off the sinners with all the plot? And there's a lot of it, admittedly. But it's my story, and I like a good, messy plot so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy this short precursor to Adrien's day on the stand.

_[Week 15]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Mussed]_   
_[Posture: Poised]_   
_[Attitude: Cooperative]_   
_[Mood: Erratic]_

Six thousand kisses, two paracetamols and a glass of water at her bedside later, Chat Noir is leaping into his living room through Trou Noir and landing on his couch with all of the poise and exhausted grandeur of someone who’s just had the best fuck of his life.

Chloé, of course, is the first to say as much.

“Ew,” Chloé pokes her head out from his bedroom with a wine glass in one hand and her iPad in the other, “I can smell you from here.”

Jolting, Chat whips out his baton and nearly drops it, “What the hell Chloé!?”

Entirely unaffected, Chloé simply takes another deep pull of rosé, “But actually, you smell like sweat and croissants, it’s disgusting. Go get a shower.”

“I...what?” Chat detransforms and shakes his head in disbelief, “I smell like croissants?”

“Well, what did you think you'd smell like? Roses? You’re dating Bakery Girl, of course you’re going to smell like day old pastries.”

“...seriously?” Adrien pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “Remind me how you keep getting into my room again?”

“I have a master key. Duh,” Chloé responds as if he’s an idiot, setting her iPad aside, “And I have to go over some Agreste Foundation things with you, so get naked and shower. I don’t have all evening.”

Ignoring her, Adrien sits instead and lets his head thunk back against the back of the couch, “Why? You have a hot date or something?”

“What’s it to you?” Chloé sticks out her tongue and leans against his bedroom’s door frame.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” he smirks, watching her scowl at him from the corner of his eye, “Which is great because I have no intention of moving anytime soon.”

Chloé whines, “But you stink!”

“And I don’t care if I stink at the moment,” Adrien feels his smirk widen at Chloé’s expression, “Because I just had the best sex _ever._ ”

“ _Oh god_ ,” Chloé downs the rest of her rosé and disappears into his bedroom for several moments, leaving Adrien to laugh himself silly. She appears a moment later with the half filled bottle in her free hand and ventures out into the dining area, filling her glass to the rim, “That’s gross, but tell me more anyway.”

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ” Adrien promptly chokes on his snickers and sits up straight, “You want _me_ to tell _you_ about my sex life with Marinette? As in, your nemesis Marinette? Are you ill or something?”

“It’s not like you haven’t before,” Chloé responds with a snort, “That, and I’ve literally watched you fucking her a thousand times—”

“—enough about the sex tape!—”

“—and I basically consider myself to be vicariously living through you anyway, so I need to know.”

“God, you are confusing the hell out of me today,” Adrien responds honestly, wiping his hand down his face, “Look, I don’t feel comfortable telling you the ins and outs of my sex life.”

“The _‘ins and outs’_ , huh?” Chloé says with a wag of her eyebrows and Adrien considers breaking out his own bottle of wine just to make it through this conversation.

“If you’re so obsessed with hearing about my sex life, why don’t you just get your own?”

“My own sex life? Pfft,” Chloé closes her eyes and sticks her nose in the air, “I don’t have time to deign to the masses. There’s no one out there even near my expectations of perfection.”

“Well, you’ll never find love with that attitude.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” she says, not sounding quite as confident as he supposes she would have liked to. Not for the first time, he’s reminded of their similar upbringings, of their isolation growing up. Her loneliness is certainly self imposed in a way but the fact remains that she was brought up to set herself apart from the crowd just like he had been all his life. You’re better than them, you’re smarter than them, you’re richer than them, more powerful than them...it was lonely at the top, and he knew first hand what it could do to you if you let it consume you completely.

And without the powers of Chat Noir at his fingertips, who knows what kind of person he may have turned out to be.

“Look,” Adrien raises his palms placatingly and turns his body to face her, “I get it. We’re best friends and we tell each other everything, but I can’t just give you all the details of what I do with Marinette behind closed doors because...well, because she’s part of it too and trust me, I know for a fact that she wouldn’t want me to share that with anyone.”

Chloé deflates, looking a little defeated, “Can you at least tell me what it’s like?”

“What what’s like?”

“I don’t know,” Chloé shugs non-committedly, but her eyes tell a different story, “Just like...being with someone.”

He’s a little taken aback by the odd swing in Chloé’s mood but one look at the bottle she’s quickly depleting says it all, “Is this the rosé talking or do you actually want to know?”

She pouts and hugs the bottle to her chest, “Humour me.”

“If you insist,” Adrien leans back again and rests his head on the back of the couch, content to gaze up at the plaster ceiling, “Well, it feels amazing, first of all. It feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, but in a good way, like...it’s like I’m flying, but I’m safe because I’m in her arms and I trust her and she trusts me to do...to do anything. Well, not everything, but still. We talk about it if we want to try something new but mostly we already know exactly what we need from each other...it’s hard to explain.”

“Keep going,” Chloé urges and Adrien chances a glance to his left to find her staring intently, her body poised towards him.

“I...I guess we just...get each other, you know? Like, she knows that I need to blow off steam sometimes and I don’t always know how to do that but she knows, and she senses it from me that we just need to play video games or have sex or eat dinner or whatever. My life has been a mess lately and so has hers, but it’s like she knows me better than I know myself. And she knows all my cues and all my weird ticks or whatever, and she doesn’t hold it against me. She accepts me for who I am and I do the same for her and we...we complete each other I guess. It feels good knowing that no matter what happens, I know that she’s there to catch me. And trust me, she’s had to catch me so many times lately, it’s embarrassing.”

Adrien shrugs his shoulders and smiles, “She started school this week and she’s so anxious and when she gets like that, she knows I’m here to ground her. She’d probably stay up for days studying and living off of caffeine shots if she had it her way, but I never let her get that far because that’s my job. I have to take care of her. I have to look out for her the same way she looks after me. She catches me when I fall and I keep her from falling herself and it’s a give and take, but I’d take that over anything else any day because it’s who we are. Chat Noir and Ladybug, Adrien and Marinette, it’s us. It’s about being a team, you know?”

Chloé empties her glass in one go and shivers, “That was actually the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life and I hate it.”

“Well, you asked for it,” Adrien responds with a shrug, still smiling, “It doesn’t matter if she’s beating me at Mecha Strike V or bitching at me about getting a haircut, we have each other’s backs. And that, Chloé, is what being with someone you love is like. And maybe one day, you’ll feel that way about someone too.”

“I doubt it,” Chloé grouses, her voice wavering as she crosses her arms over her chest, “I’m not very lovable.”

“You’re your own brand of lovable,” Adrien insists, unwilling to lie to her entirely, “And there’s someone out there that will love you just as much as you love yourself, I know it.”

She snorts and takes another swig of her wine, “That’s actually impossible. No one out there can possibly love me more than I love me.”

Adrien considers his next words carefully, knowing full well how much self loathing she hides behind her facade of indignant arrogance, “I’d be willing to bet on it and I’ll be sure to bring this exact conversation up at your wedding.”

Glassy eyed, Chloé immediately perks up, “If I get married, will you come with me to Kleinfeld's in New York City?”

“Kleinfeld’s?” Adrien raises his brows, “I thought you’d want a Parisian designer to make you a one-of-a-kind custom wedding dress.”

“Well _obviously_ ,” she scoffs, “But I just want to go so I can be on ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ and be the most dramatic bride they’ve ever had. “Famous French Politician/Influencer Chloé ‘Bridezilla’ Bourgeois Takes NYC By Storm!” I can see it now, trending all over the world!”

Smiling, Adrien simply rolls his eyes and smiles fondly, “I can’t wait.”

~

One shower and two plates of _homard bleu Européen_ later, Chloé has finally finished her semi-inebriated screen-casted presentation on the full particulars of the brand new Agreste Foundation, “So basically, the foundation is just going to start out with like, celebrity visits and stuff, and obviously, since Chat Noir is the face of the charity, he’ll be making the rounds first, but we can get other people involved later. I’m thinking of starting with a visit every two weeks and a PSA once a month from your social media accounts and if that gains any traction, maybe we can get other celebrities visiting or recording PSAs too.”

Adrien nods and stares blankly at the website’s homepage on the huge TV screen mounted to the wall. Chloé has done a brilliant job photoshopping the two sides of his identity together in one image; she’d even made Chat a little taller than his civilian counterpart to add to the differences between the two.

“And then like, people will start getting on board because _duh,_ it’s for a good cause. Papa already promised he would donate a huge sum of money before Christmas and he said that he’d lend out the ballroom for events and whatever whenever I need it. And I was thinking about doing like, a Christmas fundraiser or something where we ask for gifts and stuff and then we have Chat wearing a Santa costume or something and delivers gifts to kids. It’ll basically be a huge success, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner."

“That’s a lot to do by Christmas,” Adrien says warily, his eyes still glued to the screen, “What if it doesn’t work?”

“It will,” Chloé assured him with a scoff, “I’m the one _really_ in charge and everything I do is amazing, so it'll be fine. Plus, I need this to be a success if I’m going to use it as a stepping stone for my career because like, having a non-profit on my currico...curric... _curriculum-vitae?_ Are you kidding me? That’s like, a _big fucking_ _deal_ in my world.”

“Mmhmm,” Adrien figured that she’d had an ulterior motive to all of this, “So when exactly is this site going live?”

“I’m posting the picture of you two on the Foundation's social media pages next week probably,” Chloé responds, checking the time on her smartphone, “That should start a huge buzz as long as M. Ledroit doesn’t, you know, reveal your identity to the entire world and ruin your entire life forever.”

The nausea that had been steadily crawling up his throat all evening bubbles with full force, “I know.”

“He’s such a bastard,” Chloé cuts the feed from her iPad and sets it aside with a loud sigh, “I’m still working on finding evidence of blackmail or collusion or whatever but I...I don’t know if I’ll actually get it in time.”

“What exactly are you hoping to find?”

“Proof that _Lefuckhead_ paid someone off in the police force to get access to those security tapes of Chat going into your bedroom,” Chloé replies, her lips curling into a sneer, “Or better yet, proof that he blackmailed an officer. Now _that_ would be something.”

“I guess,” Adrien murmurs, wrapping his arms around himself, “My lawyer thinks he’s going to try and out me as Chat Noir by showing the videos tomorrow.”

“Well obviously,” Chloé scoffs, “We’re not _idiots_ Adrien, we knew this was going to happen. And guess what? I’m going to get that proof even if it like, ruins my manicure because there’s no way he got his hands on those security videos legally.”

“Couldn’t he have just copied them from my house?”

“They were suh..suba...subpoenaed when your shithead father was arrested,” Chloé explains blithely, stuttering a little over her words, “I know, because I’ve been paying attention to everything, unlike you. I actually know like, every single thing about this trial and Gabriel's fat, ugly mouthpiece. _Leshit_ is not going down without a fight, but he’s never gone up against the likes of **me** . I’m Chloé Bourgeois, Paris’ baddest _bitch_ , and he has _no_ idea what’s coming for him.”

Adrien can’t help but laugh at her drunken haughtiness, “I trust you, but...what if you can’t get the evidence in time? What if he outs me as Chat Noir like he’s been threatening to do since the beginning?”

“Then we deal with it,” Chloé says, immediately sobering. She places her hand on his knee and he can’t help but be taken aback by the sincerity in her expression as she leans forwards and locks eyes with him, “You and Marinette may be a team but guess what? You and I? We’re a team too, and no matter what, I’m going to make Gabriel pay for what he did to you.”

Adrien swallows against the well of emotions rising from his chest, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Chloé snaps back to her conceited self in a blink of an eye and points her nose in the air, “Now, you and I both need to get to bed if we want to be ready for tomorrow. Did you try on the Cifonelli suit I had delivered to your room yesterday?”

“Fits like a glove,” he replies anxiously, tugging at his bangs, “God, I am so nervous.”

“I am too,” Chloé takes a weary breath and leans back, “It’s going to be awful.”

“I know.”

“He's going to eat you alive.”

_“I know.”_

Chloé heaves another heavy sigh, “At least you’ll look good. Gabriel will be pissed.”

“He hasn’t seen me yet, at least not as Adrien,” he tugs at his bangs again before consciously shoving his hands back into his lap, “I barely even looked in his direction when I was on the stand as Chat.”

“Then don’t look at him tomorrow either. I know it seems stupid but if that’s what you need to do to stay focused…”

Adrien nods, “Yeah.”

“No one's going to judge you for that. You just have to be honest and don’t bullshit or sugarcoat anything. Your father is an abusive asshole and deserves everything that’s coming to him. Don’t let _Lecockhead_ say otherwise.”

He grimaces, “I’m more afraid of what he’ll somehow make me say without me realising that I'm saying it.”

Chloé shudders with disgust, “He’s been doing that to everyone.”

“He’s good at it, that’s for sure.”

“A professional snake.”

“A professional asshole, you mean.”

Chloé smirks, “Exactly. Now, time to get you to bed. Lights off at 22h, got it?”

“ _Oui Madame_ ,” Adrien gives her a weary salute and pushes himself to his feet, relishing in the ache in his bones. He wonders how Marinette must be feeling and shirks at the thought before helping Chloé to her feet, “I’ll meet you in the lobby at 8h?”

“Don’t keep me waiting Agreste,” she threatens with a toothy grin before turning and letting herself out, “Sweet dreams lover boy.”

Adrien smiles without any effort, “Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	21. Week 15(3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. The long awaited court chapter. Let the drama unfold!

[Week 15]  
[Patient: Adrien Agreste]  
[Appearance: Professional]  
[Posture: Tense]  
_[Attitude: Mostly Cooperative]  
[Mood: Nervous]_

 

Nadja Chamack  
@nadjachamackTVi   
The final witnesses take the stand in #PapillonTrial. HIGHLIGHT: Former personal assistant Nathalie Sancoeur and company heir Adrien Agreste make up the final testimonials at Gabriel Agreste’s hearing. Click here for live updates from outside the courthouse. #PapillonTrial 11:01 AM - 05 septembre 2018  6871  1892 

~

“Now Adrien, was your mother’s name Mme. Émilie Agreste?”

Adrien sends the judge a long suffering look before turning back to M. Ledroit, “I believe we’ve established this twice already, but yes.”

“It’s always been my intention to be thorough,” M. Ledroit taps the side of his nose and gestures to a copy of a family painting of the three of them sitting on the evidence table, “And is this a portrait of Émilie with you and your father?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Now Adrien, can you describe the night your mother disappeared?”

Both Docteur Renée and Mme. Fiable had warned him that this would come up, “She disappeared years ago when they were on a trip to Tibet. I wasn’t there, I was here in Paris.”

“You must have known though, what had happened.”

“I didn’t,” Adrien explains, his voice falling flat, “I only found out through the media days later that she disappeared on my birthday.”

M. Ledroit clearly wasn’t expecting this response, his expression failing for a fraction of a second, “I see. I have no further questions at this time, your Honour.”

Judge Abouet glances left, “Mme. Fiable.”

“Thank you your Honour,” Adrien’s lawyer draws closer, her eyes gleaming ever so slightly, and Adrien doesn’t have to wonder for long if his lawyer is going to take advantage of M. Ledroit’s obvious lack of knowledge about his mother, “You mentioned that you found out about your mother’s disappearance through the media. Can you tell the jury more about what happened?”

“I was thirteen,” Adrien says with a half-hearted shrug, “And I was homeschooled, so I should have known that something was wrong when Nathalie cancelled my tutors. My iPhone and my computers were taken from me. No one explained to me why, but I wasn’t allowed to leave my room unless it was for a photoshoot.”

“You weren’t allowed to leave your room? What about at dinnertime?”

“The help brought food to me three times a day,” Adrien continues and tries to keep his head on an even keel as Gabriel scowls from the corner of his eye, “No one else would speak to me for days. Nathalie would come in sometimes to accompany me to shoots but that’s about it. Even when I saw the limousine pull up in front of the house from my window I…”

Adrien can see it like it was only yesterday, the way his father had walked into the house with the help scrabbling behind him, carrying his luggage. She never emerged and Adrien should have known right then and there that something was wrong…

“I spent a lot of time sitting on the roof even though I wasn’t allowed to. I wasn’t in any danger since that part of the roof was flat, but I could go out into the sun and pretend I was playing in a park or something,” Adrien shakes his head at the memory, “I’d walk and run and peek in through the skylights to see what everyone was up to. A few days after, I saw the headline on the news through a window.”

“So you’re telling me that you had to physically escape your bedroom, a room where you had been forcibly confined, to find out what happened to your mother?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened after that?”

“I cried,” he says, staring blankly at the light oak corner of the stand, “For a long time, I don’t remember how long. But I figured if I didn’t eat my dinner that someone would come up and talk to me. Nathalie came up the next morning and asked why I was crying and I told her I knew. She was upset with me, and my fath—...Gabriel never explained what happened, but Nathalie let me out of my room that afternoon and had my technology reinstalled. I figured out all the details through the news, just like everyone else.”

“I see,” Mme. Fiable nods her head, “And your therapist, Dr. Rachelle Renée, I believe she described your childhood after that point as neglectful, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Adrien making eye contact with her, “Emotional neglect.”

“And educational neglect as well,” his lawyer says, glancing over to the jury, “How long did you go without a tutor after your mother’s disappearance?”

“A month.”

“A month is a long time to go without school,” she muses, shaking her head, “Tell me Adrien, in your opinion, how did the emotional neglect of your father affect you?”

“Badly,” Adrien rubs his eyes and takes a weary breath, “I rarely saw him after that. When we spoke, it was never for very long and he was usually mad about something. He was never around and he was never happy with me. I couldn’t do anything right...I couldn’t play piano right and I couldn’t fence right and...not that he ever came to any of my competitions. I could still take good photos though. He hung them in his office, so they must have been good. I held onto that, that maybe he still...he still…”

“That he still loved you?”

“Objection!.”

"Sustained. Mme. Fiable, let Adrien tell the story.”

“Of course,” his lawyer responds, taking a small step back. Adrien glances towards the crowd in the gallery and spots Marinette clutching his necklace with whitened knuckles.

“Not just love,” Adrien says, his eyes never leaving hers, “I didn’t know what love meant back then. What I felt for him at the time was just...a need to be acknowledged. And if I kept taking great photos and being good, maybe he would still see me.”

“Tell the jury what changed.”

“Well, I escaped the house several times to try and join collège when I was fourteen,” Adrien spins his Miraculous around his finger absently, “And when he finally relented and let me go, I was the happiest I’d ever been in my entire life. But looking back, I should have known...that was the day that Le Papillon first attacked Paris. The fact that he let me go meant I was out of the house. He fired a lot of the help too that day and like I said, it all makes sense now but back then, it was...it was a lot to get used to.”

“And did anything else change in your relationship?”

“He stopped having dinner with me. He spent all of his time in his office and when he wanted to talk to me, he usually just FaceTimed me. He hardly ever left the house and like I said, he never came to my competitions or my shoots or my school presentations. I got used to it. There was nothing else I could do.”

Mme. Fiable nods in understanding, “Which must have made the events of the afternoon of his arrest quite frightening for you.”

“I thought he was going insane,” Adrien says and it’s not a word of a lie, “He was so upset that someone had stolen a ring prototype from his office. There were pages and pieces of furniture everywhere in his office and he was accusing his employees of being Chat Noir or Ladybug and stealing it.”

“What happened next?”

“He started throwing things. I hid behind a chair,” Adrien takes another shaky breath, “He told me to pack my things because we were leaving Paris. He took my mobile and I ran upstairs as fast as I could. Then I escaped through my bathroom window onto the roof and went through another window and escaped through a side door and never looked back.”

“He started throwing things?”

“Yes.”

“And did he hit you?”

“He didn’t hit me but he was close.”

“I see. And have you spoken to your father since?”

“No. I never want to see him again.”

“Thank you Adrien. No further questions, your Honour.”

~

As the afternoon continues, his examinations and cross-examinations on the stand become even more stressful than his nightmares could have predicted.

His own lawyer had been understanding but thorough, which didn’t make his part any easier but at least he knew what questions were coming his way and how best to answer them. He’d practiced in her office for hours but it hadn’t been enough to shield him from the reality of the situation as his father’s lawyer marches up to the stand for the next period of questioning and continues to throw deftly laced insults at his face, “Of course, Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, we must remember that we’re still speaking with a child here. It’s hardly commonplace to take a child’s recount of a situation and have it stand in a court of law.”

“Objection, your Honour!”

“Sustained. M. Ledroit, you’re here to question the witness, not ridicule him.”

“On the contrary your Honour, I was merely pointing out the fact that most children hardly have the mental capacity to clean their rooms, much less understand the difference between abuse and discipline. You so much as look at a child with a raised brow these days and Children’s Services are being called.”

“Get to the point Monsieur.”

“Of course,” M. Ledroit smiles complacently at the judge, “What I’m trying to say is that M. Agreste was simply an authoritarian parent. Keeping his son home from school as punishment was an effective tool in his toolbox that ensured his son remained obedient as children should be. Such a strategy can hardly be called abuse.”

The judge shifts in his seat but the jury’s eyes stay glued to Adrien’s face as his composure begins to crumble, “Not all abuse is physical.”

“Not all claims can be proven in court if there’s no evidence,” M. Ledroit parrots back to him, smirking ever so slightly as he adjusts his cravat, “And I don’t see a speck of evidence here I’m afraid. It seems your accusations are as false as my client’s charges.”

Adrien bristles, “That’s not true.”

“But the evidence speaks for itself,” M. Ledroit taps the side of his nose with a smirk, “And since there’s no evidence to speak of, we must assume that your claims are as fanciful as your imagination might suggest.”

“No! My father is a monster!”

Adrien’s words hang tangibly in the air as Gabriel’s lip twitches, the only sign that he’s even listening to what’s being said, “What he did to me was wrong, but what he did to Paris was even worse.”

“Now, M. Agreste—”

“—for the last time, call me Adrien.”

“Adrien then,” his father’s lawyer sneers, his upper lip upturned in disdain, “I’ll ask again, did your father ever physically abuse you?”

“No,” Adrien replies simply, “But he did hurt me in other ways. I’ll always be affected by how he treated me.”

“But he never laid a hand on you.”

“No.”

“Then how—”

Judge Abouet raises his palm, “You have exhausted that subject, M. Ledroit, please move on.”

“I think it’s important that the jury be made aware that the defendant is not a physically abusive man,” M. Ledroit counters, turning his rotund body back to the group of jurors to the left, “M. Agreste was simply doing what he felt was right by his family.”

“If by doing right by his family, you mean setting me up to be continuously attacked by akuma, then sure,” Adrien fumes, “Totally. Being nearly sliced into pieces, thrown off skyscrapers, drowned, turned into a zombie and frozen into a gold statue isn’t abusive at all.”

M. Ledroit rolls his eyes and addresses the jury, “As I was saying, M. Agreste may have been an opportunist by using his powers for his own gains, and I mean really, who wouldn’t? If you were given unlimited power, wouldn’t you use it to achieve your goals? Reach your dreams? Protect those you love? This is what M. Agreste sought to do with the power given to him. He wanted to bring back his wife and make his family whole again, that’s all. A grieving widow, M. Agreste may have made some questionable choices in regards to his judgement, but who can blame him? All he yearned for was the embrace of his wife and child.”

Adrien’s never felt so livid in his life as M. Ledroit continues to spout nonsense to the jury, pacing back and forth around the courtroom with his nose in the air, “To condemn this heartbroken man to crimes he didn’t commit would only bring more suffering and torment to M. Agreste’s already delicate state. He is by no means an abuser; he is an upstanding family man who always put the needs of his family before himself no matter what.”

“Seriously?” Adrien mutters under his breath but the sound is still loud enough to carry. The eyes of the jury suddenly find themselves fixed to him again and M. Ledroit follows their stare back to him with a look of disdain.

“Your Honour, I am trying to speak.”

Judge Abouet glances almost imperceptibly at Adrien’s flushed face before turning to the lawyer on the floor, “Then speak.”

Sneering, M. Ledroit turns his back and stomps back over to the jury but his spell has already broken as hot tears begin to stream down Adrien’s cheeks in droves, his throat stuttering around a sob he tries desperately to keep from escaping his lips. God, how can anyone believe the absolute bullshit coming out of this man’s mouth? Heedless, M. Ledroit continues to prattle on but Adrien can hardly hear him over his thundering heartbeat as the weight of every pair of eyes in the courtroom come to rest on him.

“Adrien? Do you need to be excused?”

His lawyer is beside him in an instant and Adrien bares his teeth just long enough to look up into the crowd.

“I lost Maman too you know,” he chokes, hugging himself so tightly he’s afraid he might just burst, “But I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t kill anyone. I just tried to be good.”

Adrien pushes himself out of the chair and keeps his face turned to the floor, his bangs hanging over his tear swollen eyes. He nods quickly to his lawyer and stumbles out of the stand, his arms still tightly wound around his body in the wake of it all.

“Your Honour,” his lawyer says, sounding a million miles away, “May we have a short recess?”

“Granted.”

~

Marinette is on him like a wet shirt the second he leaves the courtroom, “I’m going to _kill_ that lawyer.”

“Please don’t,” Adrien snorts through his tears, burrowing his face in the crook of her neck, “Then I’ll have to testify at your hearing too.”

There’s a shuffle of movement around him but Adrien still doesn’t quite feel like letting go yet, perfectly fine to stay locked in her embrace forever. She’s rubbing circles on his back and suddenly there’s another pair of arms wrapping themselves around him, then another, then another. He’s not sure exactly what’s going on but it’s a good pressure, one that makes him feel a little safer as they continue to hug him, a peaceful respite to the unbearable cacophony of the courtroom.

One by one, the cocoon of people pulls away until it’s just Marinette again, “Are you hungry? Maman brought you food.”

“She did?” Adrien finally opens his eyes and glances around at the group of people standing around him like a shield, “I’m kind of starving.”

Sabine smiles softly and pulls an insulated bag from her purse, “I knew you would be. Come on, everyone else is waiting for you over there.”

“Everyone else?”

“They couldn’t all fit in the courtroom,” Marinette explains, tugging Adrien along beside her. It’s the first time he notices Alya and Nino flanking him as they follow Tom and Sabine down an adjacent corridor, “But Alya kept them updated while they waited for you to come out.”

Turning around the corner, Adrien spots a teeming horde of people he hasn't seen in ages. Former classmates, models who he had been friends with before, even former employees of the Agreste household stand in the expansive holding area, all holding their breaths as the group of them approached. Adrien stares at them all a little slack jawed, certainly shocked more than anything, and he clings onto Marinette’s hand for dear life as Chloé and Mayor Bourgeois are the first to approach.

“For the record,” Chloé puts her hand on his shoulder and gives it a brief squeeze, “If M. Ledroit’s office burns down tomorrow, it wasn’t me.”

Of all of the emotions coursing through his veins at the moment, laughter certainly isn’t the one he’d been expecting as he begins to snicker in earnest, covering his face with his free hand. Marinette squeezes his fingers and laughs along with them, “Thanks Chloé, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Adrien,” Mayor Bourgeoise shakes his head and pats him on the back, “I’ve heard some awful drivel in my time in office, but this?”

“It’s disgusting,” Chloé finishes his sentence for him, planting her hands on her hips, “And everyone in the jury would be an idiot if they didn’t agree. Calling you a child? Where is he getting this from?

“I don’t know,” Adrien responds, shaking his head as others begin to approach him. They give him a hug, a handshake, a nod of acknowledgement and it's all he needs really, a respite from the weight of the world on his shoulders inside the courtroom that felt more like an execution chamber. Adrien has always liked being around people and his mood lightens somewhat, the air in his lungs feeling just a bit lighter as he spins around and spots Chloé waving her hands wildly at his lawyer.

“I swear I can do this!” he hears her say before she turns on her heel and marches out the adjacent doorway, her iPhone already pressed against her ear. Adrien watches her go and joins his lawyer's heated gaze as she disappears from view.

“What was that about?”

“Your tenacious friend thinks she has something on M. Ledroit but she won't tell me what it is or where she got it. I told her that unless she got it by legal means, it would be inadmissible in court.”

“Chloé has been trying to find the officer that sold him the video of Chat Noir entering my bedroom,” Adrien explains, turning his attention back to her, “She has an old friend who's father works as a Lieutenant in the force that's been looking into it.”

“Interesting,” Mme. Fiable murmurs, adjusting the foremost button of her suit jacket, “Problem is, it's not going to matter of she doesn't get her hands on the evidence in the next fifteen or so minutes. We're due back in court in five and M. Ledroit isn't going to let you go this time. He smells a victory and he's on the warpath to make you look even worse in the eyes of the jury.”

Adrien nods, “If I'm going to ruin my father's life, he might as well ruin mine while he's at it.”

“Unfortunately yes,” Mme. Fiable sighs, “There's no way that Gabriel isn't going to be found guilty here, but now it’s obvious that his innocence is not the real reason they're going through this trial. Gabriel would have had better luck pleading guilty. He'd be given thirty, maybe forty years? But Gabriel is out for more than this.”

“He wants to ruin my reputation.”

“Exactly, and to do that, he's going to out you as Chat Noir.”

“I told you, I'm not Chat Noir.”

“It doesn't matter whether you are or you aren't,” his lawyer interrupts, raising her palms in the air, “What matters is what the jury thinks and if this video that's been sitting out on the evidence table is finally played and even suggests that you could be Chat Noir, that's it. It's over. Gabriel may be of to jail forever but you're the one who’s lost.”

Adrien tries to ignore the waves of nausea creeping up his throat, “I can't believe my father is doing this to me. “

“Well, say you are Chat Noir,” Mme. Fiable suggests conversational, “In Gabriel's eyes, you 're directly responsible for his incarceration. Ladybug said it herself, the man who delivered Chat's ring gave him a fake that was given to him by Ladybug. Gabriel doesn't have anything on Ladybug and his lawyer would have been an idiot to go after the city's beloved symbol of hope, so the only one he can truly blame, the only one he could truly punish, would be Chat Noir. And according to him, Chat Noir is you.”

“This is so bad,” Adrien says, his words failing him as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel the world he'd just started for himself begin to crumble beneath the soles of his feet, “This is so so so bad.”

“I'm sorry.”

He sighs, “But what can we do?”

“We can hope,” Mme. Fiable glances back towards the doors, “We can hope that Chloé manages to find the information we need to make the evidence inadmissible in court.”

“If she can prove that the officer is corrupt and sold him the videos, will M. Ledroit get in trouble?”

“Absolutely,” Mme. Fiable responds, “Underhanded dealings happen everywhere, but when money is consistently changing hands, people tend to stay quiet for the payout.”

“Except now…”

Mme. Fiale smiles wryly, “Chloé isn’t on their payroll. I honestly doubt anyone even realises what she’s been up to.”

“Never underestimate Chloé Bourgeois,” Adrien rakes his fingers through his hair and adjusts his tie, “Is it bad that I feel almost...resigned about all this?”

“It’s not exactly uncommon,” Mme. Fiable shrugs, “But have a little faith. This is Paris. You never know what could happen.”

~

This is it.

The last part of his hearing is happening and M. Ledroit is in front of him again. He can hardly take it honestly, but the tears and the hugs had left him feeling a little less charged and a little more level headed, if that was even possible.

“You had all of the advantages...the question is, did you take advantage?”

“Advantage of what?”

“Of your father’s obvious knowledge of the Miraculous?”

Adrien glances towards his lawyer before turning back to him, “Um...no? I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Of course not,” the lawyer rolls his eyes, “Let me put this in very simple terms. You stole the Miraculous book from your father’s office, did you not?”

“Yes, back when I was fourteen.”

“And why exactly did you steal it?”

“To see it? He was hiding it and I wanted to know what it was.”

“And did you always break into your father’s safe when he was hiding things from you?”

“No,” Adrien has a sneaking suspicion that he knows where this is going, “What exactly are you implying?”

“Well, you never directly answered the accusations did you? Of your affiliation with Chat Noir? Or rather, your connection?”

“I’m not Chat Noir if that’s what you’re asking,” Adrien responds flatly, “I’m Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir is going to be my business partner, but that’s it.”

“A business that I’ve recently found out is being funded by the Bourgeois, who just so happen to be housing you in their hotel for free. How convenient,” M. Ledroit leers, “That’s certainly not a conflict of interest at all.”

“Objection!”

“Sustained. Get to the point M. Ledroit.”

“The point is that M. Agreste’s son is hiding something,” M. Ledroit leans into his space and Adrien reels back instinctively, away from the man’s pervasive cologne, “And if he’s willing to lie on the stand under oath about his father’s so called ‘abuse’, then I think we can all agree that his testimony today cannot be trusted at all.”

The murmurs from the crowd grow louder and louder, “Order! M. Ledroit, I certainly hope you have something to backup your claims.”

“I do. The last piece of evidence I wish to exhibit today,” M. Ledroit gestures towards the screen on the far side of room across from the jury, “is a video that I have long touted as my _pièce de resistance_ , as it were. This, Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, will prove without a shadow of a doubt that the child on the stand has indeed been lying to you all along about everything. And of course, how can we trust anything that comes out of the month of someone who lies on the stand? Under oath? So without further ado, I give you undeniable proof that Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir!”

“NOT SO FAST!”

In a bustling blur of yellow and white, Chloé Bourgeois kicks open the doors of the courtroom with a resounding thunk and flies down the hallway with a folder raised above her head, her eyes blazing wild. The courtroom erupts in gasps of shock as Chloé marches towards Mme. Fiable and hands her the manilla envelope with an elated grin, cocking her hip with a flick of her ponytail as the stunned lawyer reveals the contents within. The judge cries once again for order and the people sitting within the huge chamber fall silent as Mme. Fiable reads the contents of the papers, her eyes growing wider and wider with both shock and surprise.

“Your Honour,” Mme. Fiable says, her eyes never leaving the pages, “I have new evidence to present.”

Raising a brow, Judge Abouet nods and allows her to proceed. Gobsmacked, Mme. Fiable approaches the stand and hands the folder over, her cheeks flushing with emotion, “Your Honour, I cannot stress enough how important this information is.”

Judge Abouet takes the envelope and leafs through the papers, “M. Ledroit, may I have a word?”

What follows next is a flurry of hushed voices and rising tension, the entire room filling with a pressure so palpable that Adrien can feel it in his bones. His heightened hearing picks up only the odd word as the din around him begins to rise in volume, the members of the jury and the gallery alike buzzing with the prospect of what Chloé Bourgeois could have possibly brought with her to stall the entire trial in its tracks. M. Ledroit looks furious and Adrien begs to every deity in the sky that Chloé did just enough to keep M. Ledroit from playing that tape and outing him as Chat Noir, _please please please please please_

“It has come to my attention that the evidence M. Ledroit is about to present is no longer credible,” M. Abouet declares to the jury, peering over M. Ledroit’s steaming head as he turns back to the pages on his stand, “The evidence was collected illegally and may have been tampered with as a result. M. Ledroit, please remove your discredited evidence from the table and proceed with your final questions to the witness.”

“I object!” M. Ledroit roars, his eyes blown wide behind his steaming glasses as he turns around and points a meaty finger at Chloé, “How _dare_ you accuse me of procuring evidence illegally?”

“How _dare_ I?” Chloé plants her hands on her hips and leans forwards, her smile as sinister as ever, “How _dare_ I find evidence that you’ve been blackmailing police officers to get what you want?”

The gallery gasps and Chloé feeds on the chaos, stepping closer to the stand, “How _dare_ I stand for the justice of this good city? My city? How _dare_ I expose you for the worthless, slimy worm that you are?”

M. Ledroit howls, “I will _NOT_ be spoken to in this manner by a child!”

“I will speak to you however I like,” Chloé straightens and Adrien can only watch in awe as she taps her nose condescendingly, baring her teeth, “Face it Ledroit. I’m a Bourgeois and I eat people like you for breakfast. Get used to it.”

The room _explodes_.

~  


 

Nadja Chamack  
@nadjachamackTVi   
BREAKING NEWS! Chloé Bourgeois causes chaos in the courtroom with allegations of blackmail and harassment against defence lawyer Jacques Ledroit! #AgresteGate. Click here for live updates from outside the courthouse. #PapillonTrial 16:36 PM - 05 septembre 2018  10935  6389 

Alec Cataldi  
@aleccataldiTVi   
@queenbourgeois Chloé emerges from Agreste trial courtroom to a flurry of reporters as #AgresteGate continues! 16:58 PM - 05 septembre 2018  971  688 

 

Mayor Bourgeois  
@BourgeoisParis   
I am incredibly proud of my daughter for standing up for the justice of Paris! An intrepid future politician, @queenbourgeois is a force to be reckoned with! #PapillonTrial #AgresteGate 17:09 PM - 05 septembre 2018  941  2287 

Chloé Bourgeois  
@QueenBourgeois   
bow down bitches and watch the queen conquer ✋🎤 19:13 PM - 05 septembre 2018  9467  24873 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of you enjoyed the drama! Hopefully now it makes a little more sense as to why I've made Chloé such an important figure in this story - she was there when the accusations began and she was there to shut them down! And the back story of Emilie's loss is directly related to my other multi-chapter marathon story if i had a wish (i'd wish for more of this). I like to link all of my stories together with subtle threads...it helps me stay cohesive in my storytelling.
> 
> So what will happen next? Will Ledroit get away with it? Will Adrien get out of this unscathed? Will Gabriel go free? And why on earth do I keep bringing up Emilie? 
> 
> ...your guesses are as good as mine. Time to get writing again!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	22. Week 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter: the denouement of the trial...and a little bonus scene at the end just for fun.
> 
> ...I wonder if you'll catch my sneaky clue in this chapter.

_[Week 16]_   
_[Patient: Adrien Agreste]_   
_[Appearance: Rugged]_   
_[Posture: Relieved]_   
_[Attitude: Cooperative]_   
_[Mood: Anxious]_

Yesterday was Saturday.

Today is Sunday.

And tomorrow is Monday, the final day of the trial.

To be honest, Adrien isn’t sure how best to sum up the last 48 hours, other than to say that it’s been a clusterfuck so mind blowing he still isn’t sure whether any of it is real or not. Ledroit had been dismissed by the French Bar for gross malpractice after years of underhanded blackmail and corruption, leaving his father to represent himself. Chloé suddenly had more interviews than a movie star at Cannes after effectively ruining Ledroit’s career and destroying any chance of release on his father’s part which she was taking great pleasure in gloating publicly about. Both _Sorbonne Université_ and _Paris Sciences et Lettres_ had already offered her late entrance scholarships into their law programs, both of which she had to decline because she was still enrolled in the _Baccalaureate_ classes her father had forced her to take since the summer. In true Chloé fashion, she was hardly deterred and said as much on national television: “Not only am I being sought after by the greatest universities in France,” she had announced proudly on the TV1 Saturday evening broadcast, “But soon, I’m going to be Paris’ greatest public servant of all time!”

Her humility, of course, left something to be desired.

As for him, Adrien hadn’t left the _Le Grand Paris_ at all yesterday, preferring to hide himself away from the hungry mob of paparazzi standing outside the hotel again. Between the hordes screaming both his and Chloé’s name, Adrien had had enough of the drama for the meantime, choosing instead to FaceTime with Nino and later, Marinette. She’d been working on a fashion assignment all afternoon and he’d been more than grateful to listen to her rant about draped bodices and box clasps, if only to give himself something to distract himself with.

It’s Sunday evening now and Adrien quickly adjusts his hair so as to not look like his furry name sake would suggest; he’s more or less ready to take Marinette’s subtle hints at face value and cut his bangs now that they’re starting to hang passed his nose. He’s not exactly sure how to go about making a hair appointment since his father’s assigned stylist had always trimmed his hair in the mansion’s salon but he supposes it can’t be any more difficult than booking a therapy appointment.

That is, until he sees how many stylists happen to be in Paris.

 **Adrien  
** how do i get my hair cut?

 **Chloé  
** oh thank god  
i’ll book you in with my stylist next week

 **Adrien  
** thx

Usually, Sunday nights are reserved for dinner at the Dupain-Chengs and although Adrien is certainly looking forwards to a hug and a home cooked meal, he can’t help but still feel a little on edge about going. Everything has been so crazy lately and Adrien hates that awful tug of lethargy from those first few weeks that just begs him to lay down and never get up. Stubbornly, he does his best to fight through it, determined to focus on the starving rumbling in his stomach instead.

On a lighter note, Plagg has been far less grumpy these days and Adrien thanks his lucky stars for Chloé’s seemingly endless supply of fine cheeses. He’s still not sure why the two of them get along so well but he supposes their similar tastes and personalities may have something to do with it; between the black kwami’s obsession with expensive camemberts and her equally expensive obsession with all things shiny and golden, he supposes the two of them must have a plethora of topics to talk about.

And speaking of which…

 **Adrien  
** send the cheese demon down or ill be late

 **Chloé  
** k

Rolling his shoulders in anticipation of the electric surge of magic about to flood through his veins, Adrien watches as Plagg phases through his ceiling and lands on his outstretched palm, “Ready?”

Baring his teeth, Plagg simply licks the sticky, soft remnants of whatever he’d been eating previously off his paws.

“Yeah, gross,” Adrien shakes his head and calls his kwami into his ring without further ado, relishing in the red hot swell of power rattling his bones and setting his skin alight. He opens his eyes and brushes his unruly bangs off his face before calling on _Trou Noir_ and hopping through, floating weightlessly through the vacuum of space for a brief second before landing on the other side.

“Adrien!”

Straightening from his crouch, Chat is quickly pulled into the customary greeting of none other than Tom Dupain, “Hi Tom! How are you?”

“Wonderful!” Tom responds, releasing him and taking a step back, “I just finished the final touches on a birthday cake and sent it off an hour ago. It’s been a busy week in the bakery, that’s for sure.”

“I can imagine,” Chat says, releasing his transformation, “I’ve been looking forward to this all weekend.”

“Us too,” Tom steps aside and Adrien gets his first look at Sabine and Marinette working diligently at the kitchen counter, “They’re assembling summer rolls. I’d help but apparently I have ‘big, meaty hands’ and I just get in the way.”

“That’s because you do!” Marinette replies, sticking her tongue out at Tom’s cheeky tone.

“I can pipe a bouquet of roses and cut the tiniest details out of fondant, but for some reason I’m forbidden to roll rice paper,” Tom shakes his head in mock disappointment, “Betrayed by my own family.”

Adrien smirks as Marinette gets increasingly riled up and leaves Tom’s side for the kitchen, “Am I banned from the summer rolls too?”

“It takes a certain touch,” Sabine replies, completely ignoring the heated staring contest between her daughter and husband, “You have to be very gentle when you fold them or else you’ll tear the wrapper.”

“Ah,” Adrien watches closely as Sabine expertly swaddles the pile of julienned vegetables in rice paper and folds in the sides, rolling them and sealing them with a swipe of her moistened fingers, “I better stay back here and watch then.”

“That would be for the best,” Sabine smiles in return, having been privy to more than one of his disastrous attempts to help in the kitchen. Simple things he could manage but tasks that required a more advanced skills set still evaded him, leading to more exploding flour clouds and crispy oil fires in their kitchen than he could shake a stick at, “You could help with the dipping sauce if you like.”

“Sure!” Adrien replies eagerly, his stomach jumping in that familiar way whenever Sabine or Tom trusted him enough to do something on his own. He listens diligently as Sabine lists off ingredients and he busies himself with grating a few tablespoons of fresh ginger while Tom sets the table and Marinette recounts the story of her fashion history seminar last Friday. It’s deceptively domestic and Adrien tries his best to bask in the comfortable, laid back atmosphere of the Dupain-Cheng kitchen but there’s only so much ignoring he can do before the inevitability of tomorrow’s final trial day comes creeping up his spine once again.

“All done with the ginger?” Marinette says, watching him closely. He can tell that she’s sensing his tension intrinsically, having spent years reading his body language just as he had hers, “We’re almost ready with the rolls.”

“Yeah,” Adrien uses his index finger to slide the minced ginger off of the kitchen knife and into the mixing bowl he’s using to make the dipping sauce, “I just have to add the pepper.”

“It’s over there,” Marinette points towards the window and Adrien spots the pepper grinder, moving over to grab the device from the shelf. He grinds in about a teaspoon and mixes the sauce together with a spoon, watching the whirlpool he makes in the seasoned soy sauce with fascination.

“Is the chicken done yet?” Tom says near his ear and Adrien peeks up just in time to see Sabine pull a roasting pan out of the oven. She sets it on the cold steel burners and pulls the leg away from the roasted bird, watching the joint closely for any signs of pink.

“It is!” she says with a smile, turning back to Tom, “Can you grab the green platter from the top shelf, _mon amour_?”

“With pleasure,” Tom squeezes himself into the busy galley kitchen and fetches the platter from above Sabine’s head, kissing her cheek as she transfers the chicken to the green ceramic, “What did you stuff it with?”

“Lemon and tarragon,” she responds, snipping the trussing string with the kitchen scissors, “Nothing too fancy.”

Tom hums and sets the platter in the middle of the counter, “Are you finished with the sauce, son?”

“Yep!” Adrien hands him the mixing bowl and watches as he quickly doles out the sauce in the individual dipping bowls beside each plate, “Don’t you usually fry those?”

“These?” Marinette points to the pile of summer rolls sitting in a pyramid on a turquoise platter in Sabine’s palms, “It’s too hot outside for frying, so we just thought we’d leave them like this.”

“Oh,” Adrien picks one up and stares at it curiously, “I’ve never had something like this before. Do I just dunk it in the sauce?”

“You do,” Sabine smiles fondly as he does just that, shoving half of the roll into his mouth with a huge bite, “They fall apart easily, lean forwards so you don’t wear your food.”

 _“Sahwy,”_ Adrien says between bites, squeezing the roll together and dipping the other half. He polishes off three more before coming to oogle the chicken breast Tom had slipped onto his plate, “This smells delicious!”

“Thank you,” Sabine slices through one of the thighs and chews it primly for a moment, her eyes glittering with mirth, “I’m glad I made as many summer rolls as I did.”

Adrien exchanges a guilty glance with Tom who, like him, had already consumed quite a few within moments of sitting down.

“We were hungry!” Tom defends with a laugh, gesturing between the two of them, “We’re growing boys, we need the calories!”

Marinette and Sabine just shake their heads in sync, a perfect picture of two women who’d had just about enough of the gluttonous men in their lives. The thought of it makes him blush a little, the knowledge that he and Marinette are in a _relationship_ never ceasing to make his heart flutter beneath the weight of her love.

The topics of conversation vary intensely throughout dinner and into dessert, but they never quite touch on what’s been hanging over their heads like an ominous thundercloud all evening. He’s starting to wonder if they’re not talking about it for his sake or their own when Tom turns on the television after their meal, filling their now darkened apartment with the sounds of Nadja Chamack analysing the likelihood of a hung jury after the closing arguments are read on Monday.

Adrien’s eyes quickly find themselves glued to the screen, _“...with absolute certainty that while both Nathalie Sancoeur’s and Adrien Agreste’s testimony left something to be desired, the high stakes drama that took place on Friday may ultimately lead the jury to a difficult decision. What will they choose?”_

The image on the screen pans towards a well dressed man he’s never seen before, _“I disagree Nadja. Adrien Agreste’s testimony was incredibly damning and I don’t think a single person in the jury wasn’t affected by the way he comported himself throughout. And because of him, I can pretty much guarantee that the jury will come to a quick decision on Gabriel Agreste’s fate. Chloé Bourgeois was the final nail in Gabriel Agreste's coffin...and who's to say that this incredible turn in the case won't lead to a break in Émilie Agreste's case as well? After all, Jacques Ledroit was also involved in the proceedings after her disappearance.”_

Nadja nods eagerly, _“You were personally involved in that case several years ago, were you not?”_

 _“I was, and I still am,”_ the man replies, nodding his head, _“I'll be spearheading the reopening of the investigation on behalf of the district of Paris once again and I can almost guarantee that there is something we missed before. The difference will be that both Jacques Ledroit and Gabriel Agreste will not be able to tamper with any of the evidence.”_

_“What do you expect you'll find?”_

_“I'm not sure yet. Whatever it is though, I look forward to delivering the truth. Her relatives and her son certainly deserve closure, especially now that the truth about Gabriel is out in the open.”_

_“Absolutely. Thank you so much for speaking with us this Sunday evening Directeur Renée. It's certainly been an eye opening experience to speak with you in regards to this case.”_

_“Always a pleasure,”_ the man says, shaking her hand and smiling at the camera before the image pans back to Nadja.

_“That was the Head of the French Intelligence Agency, Directeur Robert Renée with the latest on what can only be described as the biggest trial in France since Mata Hari. We'll be back after a short break with more on Jacques Ledroit and his sordid business affairs. Stay tuned.”_

~

Gabriel reads his meagre testimony before the jury.

It takes just over a minute and Adrien doesn’t sit inside the courtroom to hear it. He stands outside instead and scrolls through his Instagram far more forcefully than anyone in their right mind probably would, his thumb tapping with an audible ferocity against the glass screen of his iPhone. Marinette texts him when his father is shackled and back in his seat and it still takes a few moments for Adrien to gather his wits about him and reenter the courtroom.

He slides into the row furthest from the front and tugs his beanie over his ears, slumping downwards just as he had on the first day of the trial. Marinette turns and her eyes find his intrinsically, her expression one that’s hard to read. Her lips are drawn into a fine line but her eyes speak of relief...maybe? It’s hard to tell through the oppressive heat of the place that makes the air around him waver with unseen constriction, heavy like forest fog.

He listens with half an ear as the closing arguments are read.

M. Shapiro is barbed and tangible. The defence is silent.

The decision is final.

At last, the jury disappears behind closed doors and reemerges twenty eight minutes later.

“Will the jury foreperson please stand?” Judge Abouet asks, turning his body away from the gallery to face the group of men and women who have sat there for several days as jurors. An older woman of Lebanese descent stands and holds en envelope before her, “Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”

“We have.”

Judge Abouet nods and the entire gallery holds their collective breath as the woman proceeds.

“We, the jury, find the defendant guilty of all charges.”

The tension in broken, the pressure finally untethered. Adrien sinks back into his seat with a sigh of relief as the crowd rises around him, satisfied and appeased.

“The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned.”

It’s finally, _finally_ over.

_(for now)_

.

.

.

.

.

_[bonus scene]_

“Well, if it isn’t the incomparable, the exceptional, the unrivalled Chloé Bourgeois herself!”

Standing in a gaudy hair salon just behind her, Adrien watches as a man barely up to Chloé’s shoulder embraces her with gusto, cackling madly in what he can only assume is Italian? Portuguese?, “Vincenzo!

 _“Dahling, dahling_ , it’s been...what, _due settimane_ since I saw you last?” Vincenzo smiles widely, peering at her from over the rims of his flamboyantly rose coloured glasses, “Not time yet for a touch up on those gorgeous blonde tresses of yours, no?”

“Obviously not,” Chloé flicks her ponytail with an expertly timed snap of her wrist, “Didn’t Paola tell you? I brought my friend along with me today for a makeover. He’s in _desperate_ need of one.”

Adrien purses his lips at the insult, “I don’t need a makeover, I just need a trim.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Chloé replies over her shoulder before turning her attention back to Vincenzo once again, “I want something trendy but not over the top. Natural, but still seductive. Less bohemian, more Armani.”

“I understand completely _dahling_ ,” Vincenzo nods his head vehemently and brushes the non-existent wrinkles out of his lilac three piece suit, “Now, where is this friend of yours?”

“Right here,” Chloé steps to her left and exposes him to the fiendishly compact hair stylist with gusto, “Vincenzo, meet Adrien.”

 _“AH!”_ he shrieks, throwing his hands into the air, “ _This_ is your friend Chloé? Are you _ill?”_

“Vincenzo!” she admonishes with a wicked grin, “This is Adrien. As in, _the_ Adrien Agreste!”

 _“Ridicolo!”_ the squat man stands upon his tippy toes, his immaculately polished Italian leather shoes squeaking against the tile, “ _That_ is most certainly not the model boy! _That_ is a golden retriever!”

Chloé snorts with laughter as Adrien glares at the man in outrage, “I _do not_ look like a golden retriever!”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true _dahling_ ,” Vincenzo sticks up his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before peering at him again, “But you do have good bone structure for a dog, I suppose.”

“I’m leaving,” Adrien announces with a harrumph, turning around and heading back out towards the gorgeous Parisian facade of the _Champs Elysées_. Chloé stops snickering for a moment to catch him by the elbow, stopping him just as he goes to push the door open.

“You have to stay Adrien!” she implores, although she’s hardly trying to keep her mirth at bay, “And Vincenzo’s right, you don’t exactly look like a world famous high fashion model anymore.”

“And what if I don’t _want_ to look like a model anymore, hmm?”

She takes a long suffering breath, “Just trust me alright? Don’t you trust me?”

Adrien crosses his arms over his chest and sulks, “Barely.”

“Really?” Chloé wags a finger in his face, “I’m sorry, but _who_ is responsible for saving your ass and getting Ledroit fired for malpractice?”

Adrien grunts and refuses to look at her.

“And _who_ single handedly started your business from the ground up so you could do something you love?”

“You are,” he whines childishly, his pout deepening as her smile slowly widens.

“That’s right Adrichou. So, as repayment for all of my many good deeds, you’re going to get a makeover. You’re going to cut those god awful bangs of yours and we’re going to get rid of that hideous man bun you somehow think is sexy, and trust me, it isn’t, even Marinette agrees with me and we hardly agree on anything—”

Adrien’s jaw drops, “Marinette doesn’t like my man bun?”

“God no,” Chloé puts her hand on his shoulder, “She thinks you look like a boho hipster who’s spend one too many evenings sipping Fernet at a jazz bar, but she just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Oh,” Adrien looks about as horrified as he feels, _“Oh.”_

“Oh is about right _dahling,_ ” Vincenzo finally steps in, his canine-like features puckering in a squint of thoughtful wrinkles, “Now listen to your _fabulous_ friend and sit down in this chair, yes? Let me take a closer look at you.”

Whisked away by Vincenzo’s eager hands, Adrien finds himself wrapped in a magenta and periwinkle cape before he can so much as argue, “I don’t want anything too crazy.”

“Nonsense _dahling_ ,” Vincenzo assures him in a way that’s so daughtingly unaasuring that Adrien feels like running out the door, “You’re in my hands now, so sit back and watch the _mahgic_ happen.”

~

“Chloé, _dahling_ , you call this boy your friend, yes?”

Chloé peers up from her magazine, “My best friend, actually.”

“Then tell me,” Vincenzo shakes his head and presses his palm to his chest mournfully, “How could you possibly let his eyebrows become so... _bah_ , I can’t even find a word to describe them!”

“Caterpillars?” Chloé provides helpfully from the nearby chaise lounge and Adrien nearly throws a comb at her, “Squirrels? Moustaches, but on his forehead?”

Vincenzo giggles, delighted by Chloé’s seemingly well matched wit, “ _Proprio!_ Only Frida Kahlo could pull of eyebrows like these! _Dio mio,_ I simply must call my assistant in for back up. This is just far too much for Vincenzo to handle! Khun Mae! _Presto!_ ”

~

“It is time!”

After nearly three hours of trimming and waxing, Adrien is more than ready for his big reveal. Vincenzo hadn’t let him see what he was doing once he started cutting his hair but judging by Chloé’s increasingly enthusiastic reactions, Adrien hopes it’s at least passable.

“Vincenzo is _exhausted_ ,” the carnivalesque hair stylist wipes his bow with a garish herringbone handkerchief and breathes a sigh of climactic relief, “But only Vincenzo could have turned this scruffy dog into a _pezzo di resistenza_! Behold!”

Spinning around in his chair, Adrien finally gets a good look at himself. Looking back at him through the mirror, he sees someone he hasn’t really ever seen before. Sharp cheekbones accent the buzz cut that stops near his temples, revealing a styled pompadour that coifs upwards and across in a way that’s just this side of wrong. It’s rockstar and royalty all at once, naughty and nice and everything in between and it makes him look older, but not necessarily in a bad way; he thinks he might actually get into a bar on his birthday now, the shaggy looks that once accentuated the suppleness of his jawline now completely at odds with his childlike smile.

_“Wow.”_

“See? I told you that you could trust me,” Chloé gloats, appearing in the mirror over his shoulder, “You look hot, by the way.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with her breathlessly, brushing his fingertips along his freshly shaven chin, “I look _good_.”

“Of course you do _dahling_ , I _styled_ you,” Vincenzo detaches Adrien’s cape with a flourish and urges him to sit up, “Make sure you take lots of selfies, yes? That _is_ what you do these days with your smartphones. Vincenzo is far too old for such sillies.”

“I’ll make sure he hashtags your salon,” Chloé rolls her eyes as if she’s heard this a thousand times before and slides her elite Visa card through the terminal, “Now Adrien, I think it’s time for a wardrobe change, don’t you?”

“A wardrobe change?” Adrien watches his expression turn puzzled in the mirror, “Why?”

“New year, new you!” she replies as if it’s obvious, leaning on his shoulder with a grin, “Mind you, it’s September, but still, your new life is just beginning! You have a new job, a new haircut, and a birthday coming up in just a few days...it’s time to start fresh!”

He hadn’t been thinking about it quite like that, “I...I guess so?”

“I _know_ so,” she hauls him around by the arm and leads him towards the door, “ _Grazie_ Vincenzo!” 

“Bye _dahlings!_ ”

“Well?”

Chloé seems far more excited about this than he is, but she does have a point. That, and it’s be _forever_ since he’s been able to indulge in some good old fashioned retain therapy.

“New year, new me,” he says with a burgeoning grin, “I like it.”

“Woohoo!” Chloé pumps her fist, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the official end of the third arc, The Trial. There's one arc left which will tie up the loose ends and leave us where we started in the prologue. Inevitably, because I am me and I cannot be stopped, more shit will go down as I try and wrap this up.
> 
> If you're not just here to read about fictional characters boning in every position imaginable, I did write a story about what happened to Notre-Dame de Paris earlier this week. It's called Incendie (means fire in French) and I'd love it if you would give it a read, leave a kudos and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Thank you and leave a comment if you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it! A little taste of what's to _cum_ , if you will. This will be a fic that explores some d/s themes (are you surprised? is anyone?) so if that isn't your thing, don't say I didn't warn you. That being said, there's _bound_ to be a few of you out there who are into a little bdsm ;) 
> 
> Lastly, I've got three stories on the go, so have patience with me. No matter how _tied_ up I get, I usually tend to _whip_ out the stories that get comments. Writing is _hard_ work and I always love being on the receiving end of your words ;)
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


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